FARM GIRL
by gorblimey2
Summary: ExCIA agent comes to work for PPTH and finds herself drawn into an investigation of some missing radioactive materials used in dirty bombs.  All evidence points to House as the thief.Can House get out of this mess and will he fall for someone from the CIA
1. Chapter 1

**© Brogan 2007 **

**FARM GIRL**

Hospitals were among the first businesses to hire "Staff Well-Being Coordinators." SWB coordinators assisted the staff with personal or professional issues that would normally interfere with the employee's ability to do their job. At first, the coordinators were made up of mostly psychologists and sociologists. But, it soon became apparent that there was a legal side to the problems of hospital staff. Some of the staff needed help with buying homes or collapsed emotionally under the pressure of lawsuits. Some faced discipline from various boards or needed a lawyer to "write a letter." And then there were a few staff members who needed a lawyer to bail them or a family member out when they found themselves on the wrong side of the law. It was quickly determined that a lawyer would make a great addition to the Staff Well-Being Department.

Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital (PPTH), remembered when she laughed at the idea of having a Staff Well-Being department. She doesn't laugh anymore. A Staff Well-Being Department soon became the rage with the Human Resource Department when it was determined that hospitals with SWB departments were retaining important members of the hospital staff in far greater numbers than those without these departments. There was a substantial increase in the retainment of registered nurses and doctors, saving hospitals millions in costs of recruitment, training, documentation and signing bonuses. One year after PPTH had initiated the Staff Well-Being Department, it was ranked by the Staff as the number one perk offered at the hospital and came in third behind salary and location for the reason why people stayed.

The Princeton-Plainsboro Staff Well-Being Department usually had two professionals, a Sociologist and a Lawyer. Under these two professionals was a staff of five who assisted them. The sociologist, Melissa Kaiserhoff, handled issues such as: messy divorces and custody battles; abusive spouses or significant others; locating daycare; dealing with aging parents; illness of the staff or family members; and, the mechanics and aftermath of a death in the family of an employee. She ran a mini social-worker department.

The SWB department sometimes assisted with more pleasant issues too. For example, Melissa had just finished helping a staff member who was adopting a child. The SWB department gathered the voluminous information that was required by the various agencies and submitted it for the employee. This insured that the adoption was not held up by the failure of the agency receiving some form, report, or document from the staff member. The time it took Melissa's staff to do this meant that, not only did the staff member not have to spend precious work hours dealing with gathering this information, but the stress of making the phones calls, faxing requests and dealing with other entities was lifted from the employee's shoulders. Melissa and her staff attended the adoption ceremony and were heartily hugged by the couple and two year old adopted girl. The staff hung her photo up on the wall along with some of the other photos of success stories they had.

The lawyer's position had only been filled again within the last week. It had turned over several times in the last year for one reason and one reason only, Gregory House, M.D. Dr. House occupied over fifty percent of the attorney's work hours, making it difficult to do anything else but babysit him. His run-ins with patients, the law and the insurance companies were enough to keep the lawyer busy. Now he was facing a new challenge, the New Jersey Attorney General's Office and the New Jersey Board of Medical Examiners. They had informed Lisa Cuddy that they were steadily building a case against renewing Dr. House's license until he dealt with several issues, including his drug addiction to Vicodin and his lack of professionalism around patients and their families, which the AG & Board falsely attributed to his Vicodin addiction. In reality, Dr. House was just a miserable human who had no desire to be pleasant to the throng of humanity he was forced to deal with in his practice.

Lisa had never thought for one minute that the SWB department could really help or deal with Gregory House. She knew that he would study and quickly learn how to manipulate the department and the lawyer handling his matters. House had gleefully informed her that he enjoyed seeing how fast he could drive the lawyer out the door. Not that House had anything against lawyers, he had once been in love with one, it was just that the SWB lawyer was always the one dealing with his issues and he enjoyed making their life hell.

Lisa had found herself trying to hire her fourth lawyer for the department in less than one year. The last one had lasted four months, but ended up on Xanex and Zoloft to get through the day. Each time Lisa had to hire a new lawyer, she had to incrase the salary in order to get applicants that weren't fresh out of law school. This time she received one applicant that stood out from the others. She was a Yale graduate and she had apparently worked in the government for the last fourteen years as a high-ranking Washington Analyst. Lisa wasn't sure what that meant or how it would apply to the current position, except the applicant indicated an ever-increasing amount of responsibility at her previous job.

Lisa looked at the applicant and figured they must be close to the same age. "What government agency did you work for, it doesn't say?"

"Central Intelligence Agency."

Lisa lifted an eyebrow, "You worked fourteen years for the CIA?"

"Yes, right out of law school." The blonde sat back in her chair, her arms on the arms of the chair and her legs crossed. She remained stoic.

"You look as if you did well with the CIA, why did you quit?" Lisa asked.

"Personal reasons." The blonde remained perfectly still and gave no signs of being ill at ease.

Lisa wasn't happy with the answer. I bet she pissed her supervisor off or maybe she was always late...or worse, a whiner. I have enough whiners. I don't need another one. "Were you asked to leave?"

The woman with the perfect interview suit and unvarnished nails cracked a smile. "No." There was a very pregnant pause and the blonde could see that Lisa was unhappy with the one syllable answer. Cuddy ran a hand through her dark, black hair. The blonde finally broke the silence, "Dr. Cuddy, I'm going to provide you with some information about my background, but I hope you don't share it with anyone, okay?"

Cuddy nodded.

"I was the fastest rising political analyst in the department and was two steps away from being the person who sits across from the President in briefing meetings. But, I fell in love with another political analyst and we had planned to marry. The CIA actually prefers inter-office romances to a romance between an agent and a civilian. It makes it easier for the agency because they don't have to vet the fiance. The problem was that my fiancé hated the fact that I was four years younger than him and had risen two grades above him in only fourteen years with the Farm. He also resented the fact that I gave him orders. Being a political analyst for the CIA was everything to him, _everything_. I loved my job, but it was just a job to me. That also drove him nuts. He could see that, although I enjoyed my job and did it well, it wasn't the only thing that defined me.

He couldn't handle it. He started to question my authority, disobey my orders, and in general cause the department significant problems. Any other person under me I would have dealt with, but he just would not listen to me because of our relationship. So, when my supervisor called me into his office and informed me that they were going to discharge my fiancé, I quit. They begged me to stay. They even offered to keep my fiancé, but transfer him to another department. However, my fiance lived for what he did as a political analyst and I didn't. I left the CIA and here I am."

Lisa's mouth was slightly open and she was leaning forward on her elbow. She shook her head, "So the United States lost a senior political analyst because a guy couldn't get his brain around the fact that his fiancé was smarter than him?

The blonde smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Lisa was curious. The woman was pretty, about the same height as Lisa, but, unlike Lisa, she was dressed in very conservative clothing. Lisa wanted one question answered, "So are you two getting married?"

The woman looked down at her hands, the first time she showed any lack of composure. "He broke up with me. He said he couldn't marry anyone who wasn't in the CIA, it would be too hard on the relationship."

The irony of the story was so overwhelming that Lisa threw herself back in her chair and slapped her knees, "Oh my God! I don't believe it! Does he know what you did for him?"

The blond smiled and shook her head. "I'd probably do it a again if I had to. I'm comfortable with change, I don't mind trying new adventures."

"This job seems so different from where your talents lie." Lisa commented.

The blonde shook her head again, "What's more political than a hospital? It has budgets, security, politicians, citizens, it really is no different. Besides, I think you'll find me up for the challenge."

Lisa smiled. If she let herself think about it, the hospital was a mini-political system. Maybe this would work. She might be able to handle the job, handle House. Lisa wanted to hire the woman, but she had one more obstacle. Lisa had decided that from now on she would not hold back why the others had left. She felt that full disclosure was necessary to find someone who would stay. Lisa steadied herself and then began, "We have a problem at this hospital, one that has caused the last three lawyers to leave."

The blonde snickered, "Dr. Gregory House, born June 11, 1959, military brat that failed to get along with Dad. His mother was a typical military wife, she didn't rock the boat when there were allegations of possible abuse by the father. House turned out to be a genius. Not just a prodigy, but a genius. Like a lot of geniuses, Dr. House cannot stand to follow the rules or spend time on issues that don't interest him. His laziness was the reason why he was allowed to receive his medical degree from Hopkins, but was not allowed back for a residency or to take the Mayo Clinic's Doyle Internship. Hopkins kicked him out because he cheated at the last minute on a pharmacological exam calculation and was caught. Dr. House managed to get himself fired from three hospitals after doing his residencies in Nephrology and Infectious Diseases. He ended up here because you knew him when he was a resident at the University of Michigan and you were an undergrad. In fact, you had a brief sexual encounter with Dr. House and remained friends over the years. You knew he was brilliant and took a chance on him, thinking you could control him because of your friendship. But he's the master manipulator and he has managed to manipulate the system and you.

Dr. House was extremely active in sports such as golf, la cross, soccer, and rock climbing until approximately six years ago when he suffered an infarction in his leg which led to his thigh muscle experiencing extensive damage and the surgeons recommending amputation. Dr. House specifically stated that he did not want an amputation. After he was placed in a medically-induced coma to get him through the pain of the procedure, his live-in girlfriend gave you permission to do a surgical removal of the dead thigh muscle despite his direct orders that the operation not be done. Oh, by the way, you and the girlfriend, who was an attorney, both committed malpractice. Just because a person has a power of attorney for health care decisions does not mean that you can follow their orders when they are in direct contradiction to the patient's orders. In other words, his girlfriend and you did not have the legal authority to do what you did. This operation left Dr. House mentally and physically challenged, leading to a break-up with the girlfriend and his addiction to Hydrocodone. He was nearly put in jail for forging prescriptions and he faked his rehabilitation, thus he continues to this day to abuse Hydrocodone.

Dr. House does not tolerate people who do not acknowledge or follow his recommendations or give praise to his abilities. In other words, Dr. House does not suffer fools. He is being investigated by several branches of the government, both state and federal." She saw a surprised look on Lisa Cuddy's face, "Oh I see you were not aware of the federal investigation, well I am. His antics have led to numerous law suits and the loss of staff. Dr. Cuddy, I could go on ad nauseam about Dr. House. I just want you to know that I've done my homework."

Lisa's gave up all pretense of trying to remain unaffected. "Christ, do you know that much about me?"

The blonde winced, "Not as much. But probably more than you wish I did." she waited. It was clear from Lisa's far off look that she was weighing all this in her head. "Dr. Cuddy, you're embarrassed, you think that I might know something about you that you don't want me to know. I can assure you that my years in the CIA have taught me not to judge the person from just facts. I could tell you that my mother took money to undress for men, it's true and you might judge her on that fact alone; at least until I also told you she was a model for the Ford agency. Now that would make her legit. Facts are facts, you have to put them in context. I might have a lot of facts about you, but they really mean nothing until I have a frame of reference."

Despite the fact that the woman scared her, she liked her and she was the first person that she thought would give House a run for his money. She nodded, "I'd like to offer you the job. It pays $212,000 a year, plus benefits and a nice 401K Plan. You'll get two weeks off each year until you've worked five years and then you get three. After ten years you get four."

"I'm sorry, but the vacation time is unacceptable. The doctors and nurses get three weeks to start, with four weeks after four years. I expect the same."

Lisa smiled. She has done her homework. "Fine. Welcome aboard..." She looked at the resume, " Isibél O'Roarke."

Isibél stood, reached across the desk and shook her hand, "Thank you Dr. Cuddy."

"Call me Lisa. Why don't you start on Monday? If you want, you can swing by H.R. on your way out to get all the forms to fill in." Lisa sat back down, but couldn't resist one more question, "Did you every think about going into medicine?"

"No, I had the grades, but my father was a doctor and we never got along. I wanted to choose a field that would piss him off. He hated the government and had very socialist views. It turns out I picked the perfect career to achieve my goal. He stopped speaking to me when I refused to go to med school and went into the CIA. He died five years later." Isibél stood and put her hand on the back of the chair, "Thanks for the job. Where do I report on Monday?"

"Oh, come see me around ten."

"Dr. Cuddy, I would appreciate it if you would simply keep my resume to yourself. As you can see, on the application I just put U.S. Government and an address where inquiries can be made by your H.R. representative. If you personally need to get a reference from my former employer, just let me know and he'll contact you."

"I won't be sharing your employment history with anyone. In fact, I'm going to put it in here and lock the drawer." Lisa emphasized this by doing just that.

"Excuse me Lisa, can I show you something?"

"Sure."

Isibél came around the desk, reached up and took the letter opener, held up the drawer with her thigh, fiddled with a hairpin and the letter opener and had the desk drawer opened within seconds.

Lisa looked sheepish, "I get the point. Uh, I'll put it in my safe at home. She put the resume in her purse and saw Isibél nod.

"I'll see you on Monday."

That night Lisa Cuddy went home and had the best night's sleep she'd experienced in years.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**CLEANING HOUSE**

I packed and stored most of my belongings at a storage facility outside of Washington D.C. near Langley, affectionately referred to as "The Farm." Then I drove up to Princeton and rented a room at the Embassy Suites. On Monday I prepared for my first day and then rode my Kawasaki Ninja into the parking lot at PPTH. I wasn't sure how I was suppose to attach the parking permit since it was designed to dangle from a rear view mirror in a car and I was on a motorcycle. I decided I'd have to ask H.R. about it. Instead of parking in the staff spots and possibly getting towed for not having a permit, I parked in the patient parking with the other motorcycles. I flipped up my visor, took off my riding gloves and took off my motorcycle jacket with the elbow and shoulder guards. I stuck them in my locked saddlebags and helmet trunk. Under the jacket I was wearing a butter yellow ribbed tank top. It was going to be a hot day.

As I walked up the sidewalk, I looked up at the very modern brick building and felt a since of excitement that I hadn't felt since I had been an operative at the CIA. I chuckled. _Lisa probably thinks I was a desk jockey for fourteen years. An important desk jockey, but a desk jockey. I wonder what she would think if she knew it all. Ah, but then I'd have to kill her. _I laughed.

I went to the women's restroom, went into the handicap stall, hung my backpack up and pulled out a suit jacket made of travel-lite material. I pulled off my motorcycle trousers and whipped out the skirt and the low-heeled sandals. Once I had them on straight, I went to the mirror where I took out a brush, lipstick and mascara to do a touch up. Within a few minutes I had gone from motorcycle-mama to dutiful lawyer. I put everything back in the pack and then went to see Lisa.

I found her in the clinic talking to a man in a lab coat, probably a doctor. When I approached them I could see from the embroidery on the lab jacket that the man was Dr. James Wilson. I remembered that name from House's profile. Wilson had been the doctor who had lied about the handwriting on the prescriptions. Wilson had covered up for House's obvious forgery. _Ah, Wilson must be House's friend._

I waited quietly until Lisa could devote her attention to me. Lisa was somewhat animated, "We're down to one machine. I'm sorry Wilson, you'll have to take it up with House."

"That's like trying to take a porno magazine away from a fifteen year old."

"Maybe, but the two of you want it and I only have one." Lisa smiled at me, "Dr. Wilson, meet our new SWB lawyer, Isibél O'Rourke."

I couldn't help but note how handsome he was. He was about 5' 10", dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a face with angular features. His eyes were just slightly too close together, but not enough to take away from how good looking he was. There was nothing rugged about his looks. He looked like a doctor. I was amused by the sad look he gave me. He looked truly upset and worried when he shook my hand with just enough pressure, "Glad to meet you." As he was shaking it, he turned to Cuddy, "You told her?"

"I didn't have to, she knew all about him. The word is obviously out." Cuddy said.

Wilson turned quickly back to me, "I hope he doesn't do too much damage. He really can be human." He winced a little, "Sometimes."

Lisa snorted, "Ha!" She nodded goodbye to Wilson and then we went to Lisa's office. "Here's your keys and the key to the personnel file room. Let me take you up and introduce you to your staff."

We walked the orange paneled and glass halls of the hospital. I'd never seen a hospital with so much glass. Instead of doors, they had patio sliders. It was interesting, but I couldn't help but wonder about patient privacy with all those windows. We turned into a corridor that had several regular doors and fewer windows that looked into the offices. I didn't mind the windows. At the CIA there's a lot of openness and we all see just about everything that everyone is doing. The only ones that have real offices are the guys who sit at the table with the President.

Lisa opened the door and there was one large room with five small desks and several chairs. The desks had new computers and several pieces of equipment that had quite a few electronic bells and whistles. Lisa smiled perfunctorily at the staff.

"This is the new lawyer, Isibél O'Rourke. Isibél, these three employees help Melissa, the sociologist. That's Alfredo, Connie, and Shena. These two will be your staff members. Meet Perry and Linda."

I smiled warmly, "Hi everyone."

They all looked up at me and smiled, murmuring words of welcome. Lisa motioned for me to follow her and we went to the back. She knocked on the door jamb of the open door and a woman at the desk looked up.

"Hi Lisa. Is this my new roomie?"

Lisa laughed, "For now at least!"

Melissa was surprised, "Lisa! That's not very nice."

Lisa nodded, "I know, but if I don't laugh, I'll cry. Melissa, this is Isibél O'Rourke. Isibél this is Melissa Kaiserhoff.

We stood and talked for a few minutes, just general chit chat about the hospital and Princeton. We agreed to have lunch soon. Lisa threatened to join us. Whether she would or not, I wasn't sure. I suspected from her tiny frame, that she never ate.

We continued down the hall past a little room filled with supplies, a computer equipment, a small table and chairs, refrigerator and microwave. There was also a sink and cabinet for coffee cups and other kitchen things.

Then she opened the door to a room filled with an empty desk, wood file cabinet, wood credenza and a very nice Sony Vaio computer. I could see that I would have to get a new chair, the leather upholstered one wasn't very ergodynamic. The best thing about the office was the view. It was a corner office and it had a view that looked over the parking lot and towards Princeton University. It was a nice, tree-filled and peaceful view. The office was large enough for a sofa and chair even though there was only the leather chair and a plastic chair sitting in front of the desk.

"Lisa, do I have a budget to furnish and decorate?"

"I'll give you $500 to start with. If you last three months, I'll give you $3,000 more. I hate to say this, but I don't want to repeat what happened before. I gave the first two a big budget and when they left, the next one didn't like the decor, so I had to give them a big budget."

I could understand and I didn't mind. She had a right to be a little gun-shy. "Well, I won't be able to even buy the chairs I'll need to start with."

"We have a room full of odds and ends in the basement. Go down there and pick out what you need in the interim."

"Okay, sounds fair."

We spent a half hour talking about the job and what was expected. She called in Perry, one of my two assistants, and had her go over what was currently going on that I would be overseeing. I thought I had a good idea of what I needed to do. Lisa pointed to a stack of papers and file in the corner of the credenza.

"House." She stood up. "I'll leave you alone with him and if you have any questions, my extension is 1110."

"I assume Dr. House's is 666."

She giggled, "I think you understand already."

Lisa left and I started to read the current trials and tribulations of Dr. Gregory House.

In the afternoon I went down and found someone to let me into the room filled with furniture. Some of it was quite presentable. I chose carefully from what was available. In politics, the outward appearance often says more than anything else. Having the best that was available would establish my credibility and rank in hierarchy with the staff. If I was going to go anywhere at PPTH, I had to get my foot in at the highest rung.

I knew that there was another attorney at the hospital, Walter Nation. He took care of the contracts, employee/labor disputes and hospital malpractice lawsuits. I had originally wondered if I wanted his job, but decided he could keep it. I thought my position, due to the nature of it and the fact that no one had stayed long enough to put their stamp on it, gave me more flexibility.

I left at 5:00 pm sharp and went home to my Embassy Suites room. I was going to look for an apartment the coming weekend, but for now, this would do. I grabbed several boxes out the back of my car and rummaged through them to get what I needed. I dressed in black slacks, black top, dark ballcap and black shoes, then drove back to the hospital on my bike with a duffel bag tied down on the back of my bike with bungee cords. It was just after midnight.

I took the back stairs to the second floor and waited until everything was quiet. I snuck out of the stairwell and saw on my right an office marked, "Diagnostics, Gregory House, M.D." I opened the door and called out gently, but there was no answer. I took out my flashlight and checked the trash can. It had been dumped so I knew the cleaners had already been through. I doubted that I would be interrupted. I got on the floor behind House's computer and quickly attached the "Snooper." It's a little white device that looks and acts like a plug. When attached to the back of the computer in the keyboard plug, it records all keystrokes into a computer, including passwords. I needed Greg House's passwords and this was the best way to get them. I also took out my recorder pen. It looks like one of those pens that come in bulk at the office supply stores. I put it in the pen holder on his desk. Luckily the damn thing does write, even if someone mistakenly uses it for a real pen. It is voice activated and stores up to 10 hours of digital recordings. The only difference between it and a regular pen is the dark blue circle near the top of the cap. The circle has tiny holes in it for a microphone. It's virtually impossible to determine that there are holes unless you use a magnifying glass.

I thought I would start light and if I needed to bug his telephone, I would do that later. It was all illegal, but only if I got caught. And I wouldn't get caught. I looked around and saw another door that exited into an outer office and a second door opposite his desk that exited onto a balcony. His balcony backed up to the balcony of another office. Before I left I'd have to check out who's office it was. I took my small duffel bag and thought seriously about installing a camera. But I decided against it. I looked out in the hall and, not seeing anyone, dashed down it to see who had the office with the balcony that backed onto House's. It said, "James Wilson, M.D. Oncology."

_Oncology? I can see that. He's sweet, kind and trustworthy. He's the kind of doctor you'd want to tell you that you were dying. I wonder if it takes a toll though? I wouldn't want to have to tell parents that their kid was dying. Ugh. _

I heard a noise and slipped into the stairwell and out the door to the parking lot. I wondered all the way home if I was going a little overboard? I sniggered. _You can take the girl out of the CIA, but you can't take the CIA out of the girl._ I knew that Dr. House had run circles around some very intelligent people, I just didn't want to be another one of his victims.

The next morning I was riding my Kawasaki to work and was a few blocks from the hospital when another bike rode up by me at the light. I recognized the bike as a 2005 Honda Repsol 1000RR. There were only 500 made and they weren't cheap. It looked like the rider had laid this one down because it was scratched up on its side. The rider had on a full face helmet with a dark visor. I couldn't see his eyes, but from the angle of his head, he was looking directly at me. My visor was dark but not as dark as his. He would be able to see the outline of my face. I smiled. He turned away, looking at the light. When it turned green he took off.

I knew the motorcycle. I knew the owner. I had just made contact with Gregory House.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**HIGH MAINTENANCE**

Gregory House liked it when Lilly Parkinson came to town. Lilly maintained the hospital MRI machines and some other medical equipment when it broke or needed maintenance. After Lilly repaired or maintained them, Gregory House would repair or maintain Lilly, usually right on top of the MRI.

He liked to watch her crawl up in the machine. When she first came to PPTH she wore short skirts with flimsy underwear which made for some stimulating scenery in House's book. Lilly had a great ss and curvy legs that were almost as long as his. She had to be 5'10", brunette and a generous D cup. He liked that her eyes were an olive green and her lips were very full. House had never seen someone look quite so exotic and yet American all in one package.

They had met when Lilly refused to yield one of the MRI machine to House. She was in the middle of calibrating and doing the quarterly maintenance, but House needed an MRI for a patient and the other MRI machine was being used. When he wheeled the patient in and began to load her onto the table, Lilly protested that she wasn't done.

"Tough, you're a vendor, you're here to help —the biggest help you can give is to get those tools off the machine and let me do my job _saving lives_."

"I'm here to be useful, not idle." Lilly yelled back.

"You're about as useful as a betamax recorder."

She threw down her tools and yelled back, "Next time you shave that beard try stepping one or two inches closer to the blade." She'd already had a rough day. She'd been in a fender bender; had a fight with her boyfriend and broke the heel on her new shoes. She was suppose to start her period soon and everything felt worse than it was.

He gave out a harsh, phoney laugh. She started to cry.

House felt guilty. He had just made a beautiful brunette cry and he hadn't even had sex with her. He relented, "Look, how long will it take for you to do this?"

"Twenty Minutes." She said over her sniffles.

"You have fifteen." he said and walked out wheeling his patient.

Lilly smiled to herself, Greg House was a sucker for tears from a pretty woman. It would be good to have someone in the hospital she could hook up with when necessary. He was good looking and certainly tall enough and it would be nice to tame the bully. Lilly had made her mind up, Greg House would be a nice little asset to have at PPTH.

When the fifteen minutes were up, House was back with his patient. Lilly had done the bulk of the work and decided she could wait to do the rest. This would give her an opportunity to get to know the guy with the azure eyes.

House occasionally watched Cameron run the MRI, but mostly he kept sucking on his lollipop and looking at Lilly. She was hot. He smiled slyly at her and she smiled coyly back. He turned the chair around so that he could talk to her.

"Do they always send women with long legs and big hooters to work on MRIs? Cause if they do, I'm coming down here more often."

"They just send me. This is my account."

"Where do you work out of?"

"Baltimore," she said.

"How often do you make it down here?"

"A few times each month. But I work mostly at nights. The machines are usually easier to free up at night for maintenance."

"Want to go get a drink?" he asked.

"Sure, when I'm done."

"Come see me on the second floor when you're ready. My office says Gregory House on the door."

"Okay."

They went for drinks and the next time she was up from Baltimore, she called House in advance. He met her down in Radiology and from then on out, the MRI was first tuned up and then Lilly worked on House. They explored the machine and each other from every angle over the next two years. Lilly had a boyfriend, or so she said. But according to her, their relationship was in constant freefall. She told House that she looked forward to her trips to Princeton and their time together. House could care less about the boyfriend as long as he didn't make a surprise appearance during one of their repair jobs. Lilly was fun and an enjoyable piece of ss, but she wasn't his idea of someone he wanted to get to know better. He was pretty sure she felt the same way. There just wasn't a deeper connection. Their relationship worked best when they were screwing and having a few laughs.

They enjoyed their evenings together unimpeded until one night emergency sent down a patient to be scanned and the technician found House on top of a woman inside the MRI machine. He never saw who the woman was because House forced him to leave, but Lilly and House started paying Tariq Sadri, the custodian in radiology, to be a lookout in front of the department when they were inside having their fun. Tariq would dial House's cell phone if there was someone coming.

House had saved a lot of money on hookers over the last two years, but he was starting to want more, not from Lilly, but from his existence. He had been miserable for so long, he knew he needed to change soon or misery would define the second half of his life.

House put his summer riding jacket on and had switched his clear visor with his darkened one before leaving for work on his Repsol motorcycle. He enjoyed the freedom of riding a motorcycle. It made him feel whole again, as if the leg had never happened. It was the one thing he could still do and do well. House rarely varied his route to the hospital, but had decided to go to Starbucks and get himself a Frappucino this morning. He drank it, ate the croissant and then took off for PPTH. He was almost there when he saw the black Kawasaki ahead of him.

He could tell from behind that the rider was a woman. The motorcycle looked bigger than her. She was tiny compared to it, but from the way she rode, there was no doubt she was in control. He wondered who she was and where she worked. He knew all the motorcycle riders at work. They all frequently talked about bikes and traffic, so if this woman worked at PPTH, she was new.

He weaved in and out of traffic so that he could pull up next to her at the light and get a look. She had on a full helmet with a light gray visor. He could just make out the outline of her features. She had the audacity to smile at him when he was trying to look menacing! Why? He wasn't trying to invite a smile. He doubted she could even see him. Rather than acknowledge the smile, he decided to turn back to the light. When it turned green, he shot through the intersection like lightening and whipped his way into the PPTH staff parking lot.


	4. Chapter 4 Part !

**CHAPTER 4 **

**BOY MEETS GIRL**

I pulled into the staff parking lot (now that I had a parking sticker attached to my bumper.) I could see that he was already dismounting his motorcycle. I turned off my motor and turned off my fuel lever. I watched him from behind. House was parked in the Disabled Parking about fifteen yards in front of me. He unhooked his helmet and pulled it off. He took his articulated cane out of his backpack and flexed it. I had to chuckle when I saw that he used the cane on the wrong side for his injury. Most physical therapists would have insisted he use the cane on the left side, but he was using it on the right –the same side as his bad leg. I would have expected nothing less of him.

He turned sharply, as if he could tell I was watching, and looked directly at me. I was stunned. He had to be 6'2" or 6'3". His face showed evidence of a few scrapes including a previous break at the bridge of the nose. It was the eyes that made me stop in my tracks. Most women would tell you that I was captivated by the blue, the gorgeous china blue with the dark blue rim around the cornea, or maybe the long eyelashes that emphasized how big and blue the eyes were, but it wasn't that. It was the intelligence in them. It was the pure essence of brilliance in those eyes that made me shiver.

I didn't flinch or show any weakness outwardly. I was staring, but he was glaring. I gave him a warm smile and walked past him. As I did, I felt a poke in my side. I turned around and saw that he had poked me with his cane.

"Dr. House?" I asked as I rested my helmet on my hip. "Can I help you?"

"You know me?"

"Dr. Gregory House, Diagnostics."

He walked up to me, smiled slightly, "You're not a nurse or a doctor, we didn't get any emails welcoming you." He thought about it, and then those blue eyes registered the answer, "You're the new lawyer."

I put out my hand, but he wouldn't shake it. I dropped it, " Isibél O'Rourke." I said it in Gaelic, pronouncing it, "Ish-e-bel."

He stood for a second trying to sum me up. I let him. He put his backpack on and walked with me to the front door of the hospital. We didn't say anything. I slowed a little so that he could keep pace with me, I'm a fast walker. I felt very short next to him. I could see him occasionally take a glimpse of me out of the corner of his eye.

When we got inside he still said nothing to me. I pushed the button to the elevator. When I entered it, I held the button to open the door for him. He walked inside and looked down at me. I pushed the numbers 2 and 3. The elevator doors closed and he turned to me, "So have you figured out how to tame me?"

I shook my head, "I thought about castration, but then I'd have to find your balls and I'm not sure I've got a magnifying glass that big."

"You're probably right, it'd have to be as big as your mouth and I don't think they make them that big." The elevator stopped at the second floor and as he started to get out he said, "I'd like to leave you with one thought, but I'm not sure you have anywhere to put it!"

I held the door open and in front of the doctors and nurses waiting for the elevator said, "Sorry Dr. House, I'd love to go out with you, but my favorite commercial is on TV tonight. Maybe some other time when you find those balls."

He turned and leaned on his cane and watched as the door closed. The last thing he saw was me smiling and waving. I was a little excited, the game was afoot. The gauntlet had been thrown down. I couldn't wait to find out what he was thinking, saying, doing...it was an aphrodisiac for both of us.


	5. Chapter 4 Part 2

Chapter 4 -Part 2

When I got home I was still wired. I had handled bailing out and getting charges dismissed against a doctor, Nick Majik, for picking up a prostitute. It was clear he had done it, but I pointed out to the Sargent at the desk that the doctor in the cell was the best surgeon at PPTH and worked on most of the critical gunshot wound patients, including cops. When the cops realized that this guy might be working on them or a friend in the future, they decided to "play nice."

On the way back to the impound to pick up his car he confided to me, "My wife has a borderline personality disorder and has decided the best way to punish me for failing to acknowledge her new dress two years ago was celibacy. She's still celibate. It's been harder on me. I sometimes need, well you know."

I nodded my head. "Have you thought of a divorce?"

"I suggested it once and came home to find blood all over the house and my clothes, which were lying in the middle of the floor, and her in the bathtub with slit wrists. Of course she had slit them horizontally and knew I was on my way home, but still, she'd kill herself just to make me suffer."

I winced. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. "What about an affair with a woman in a similar situation?"

"Would she look like you?"

I laughed. I hadn't expected a compliment. "Well, not like me, but maybe similar."

He smiled and said nothing.

I handled some minor legal matters and waited until 6:00 pm. I walked down and saw a light on in House's office so I went home. Around midnight, I put on my gear and drove to the hospital. I retrieved my plug and pen and went home to see what I had gathered.

I plugged in the recorder and then the keystroke recorder into my laptop. They both downloaded as I drank a cup of tea. I pulled up the keystrokes and searched for passwords. I found the one he apparently used for everything, ATCR05DA03. It was a strange password. I was so curious that I decided that I would try and decipher it sometime soon. First, I wanted to hear the conversations on the recorder.

The first half hour of the recording was greetings and him apparently chastising his staff for failing to run a test

"You imbeciles, now we've lost important time. When this kid croaks and you have to tell his parents, remember to inform them that he died because you didn't want to run an expensive test. I'm sure they'll be happy that you saved their insurer all that money. Now go run the damn test!"

I wasn't surprised at the outburst. It fit with what I had read and heard about him when I was investigating him. I had the benefit of the CIA at the time. I wanted to know why the previous lawyer was leaving so I called her and pretended to be the hospital's errors and omissions underwriter. She hemmed and hawed, but eventually I gleaned that Gregory House was the thorn in hers and everyone else's side. That's when I started my spiral down into all things Gregory House.

On the recorder there were phone calls in which he sounded almost sane on his end. "It's probably Hantavirus. You'll need to talk to Maggie Malone at the CDC. She knows Hantavirus pretty well. Yeah, bye."

The next call was boring as well, "It's been six months since my cleaning. Yeah, July 19th, 3:00 pm. Yeah, yeah, call if I have to cancel."

The third call pricked my interest, "Dapylmare, what do you know about an attorney named, Isibél O'Rourke." There was a pause, "Yeah, well any moron can Google her. I did and nothing came up. Yeah, get back to me."

I laughed. If anything came up on the internet about me, it would trigger a response at the CIA and the entry would be wiped out on all servers, unless it simply said I was an attorney working at PPTH. He'd never find out anything about me through the internet. At least not without hacking into the CIA and only a few of us had figured out how to do that.

When he hung up, he sighed. I heard a door open and someone walked in.

"Coffee, cream 2 ½ sugars." said a man's voice that I recognized as Dr. Wilson's.

I heard House shift in his chair, "Thanks." I heard him take a sip. "What do you know about the new attorney?"

"No! House, leave her alone. She seems nice, so leave her alone."

"Nice? She just told me I don't have any balls."

I heard Wilson chuckle, "Okay, so maybe not so nice. But still, leave her alone. Cuddy is going nuts trying to keep someone in that position."

"And I should care? Hey, if the attorney can't handle the stress of her job, she shouldn't be an attorney." There was a pause, "I bet she's never had a stressful job. She looks like everything has come easy, too easy. She's pretty, bright and I bet pampered by Daddy. You can tell by the way she walks and dresses that she likes to be in control." He started chuckling. "Hmm. She attacked first which means Cuddy has warned her about me. She expects trouble. What if I behave? Or at least appear to behave? What if I act like I care? Maybe even suck up to her and then..."

"House, come on. Humans and their jobs aren't play things."

"Oh now Wilson, we all know lawyers aren't human."

I laughed at that.

"Please don't do this. Give her a chance, maybe she can help you." Wilson sounded desperate. I wanted to hug him for sticking up for me.

"I don't need help." There was a noise like a container being fiddled with, "I need more Vicodin."

There was more chatter, mainly gossip about others in the hospital. I was excited. If he was going to pretend to behave, then maybe I could use his little experiment to score some points and get him to do a few things. I logged into his account at work and downloaded his emails which I thought I'd review over the weekend. I raced to work the next day, excited about my window of opportunity to do something positive with Gregory House. I didn't realize how naive I was being.

I waited in House's yellow microsuede chair with the matching ottoman that sat in the corner of his office. I waited with the lights off. At 8:30 am several doctors filed into the adjacent office. They were curious about me. One very pretty one stuck her head in the door to his office.

"Can I help you?" she asked me.

"No, I'm just waiting for Dr. House."

"He may not be in for awhile. He gets in between 9-10 am."

"I don't mind waiting." I listened to my IPOD, I had downloaded his conversations onto it so that I could review them while I waited. I had just replaced the pen recorder in his pen holder. Now that I had his password, I didn't need the keystroke recorder. I could monitor his computer from my home.

The keystrokes had revealed that he had indeed Googled me. He tried for half an hour to find something on me. The only thing that came up was a blurb that said I had joined the staff of PPTH. He then went on to Google cheat codes for a computer game, which he obviously played from the hundreds of arrow and "a" keystrokes. In the afternoon he reviewed several medical sites and then he searched for, "Hot Sex." He gave a credit card number and then there were several "Enter" keystrokes and then nothing. I noted the credit card information.

At 9:10am Gregory House entered his office. He immediately sensed I was there because he turned to look at me, somewhat surprised that it was me. He flicked on the light and looked at me sideways. He kept staring at me the entire time as he put down his bag. He took a breath and then asked me, "I'm busy now, can I ignore you some other time?"

"Dr. House, we have a couple of problems according to Dr. Cuddy and the stack of documents in my office. You're up for license renewal in six months, but I just had a call with the medical board. They aren't going to allow you to renew until you do something about your addiction to..." I stopped and realized that the only thing that Dr. House loved more than music or his work was Vicodin. It was his password. I must have paused, because he now had a curious smile on his face. "Vicodin."

He chuckled, "Addiction?"

"I'd call it an addiction. Let's see, I have this AMA brochure on addiction. See if any of this applies."

"Can we go through these later, at lunch? I have a patient that needs my attention and I'm afraid dying people take precedence over annoying nags."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Sorry, I gave up charity dating in the seventies. When I look at you I see the wheel spinning, but the hamster looks dead. I like my women to have half a brain. At least then they know when the sex is over it's time to leave."

"I think most women would know it was time to leave before the sex, except the ones you show a few Benjamins to." I stood up, straightened out my suit and said, "We can review this later, when you don't have a dying patient. My nagging can wait. I'm bright enough to know when to retreat."

"You're a real sweet talker."

"Are you flirting with me?" I asked.

"Are we done?"

"Lunch?" I paused and then I thought I'd remind him of his scheme to be nice, "Well, I guess they're right, you can't be nice can you?"

I saw him switch gears. He took a deep breath and said, "Lunch. But not here. First dates have to be off campus."

"I don't know where to go for lunch, I just moved here."

"Likely excuse. Pick me up at noon." He looked down and then quickly up at me with the sweetest look, "You better have flowers and candy."

He was cute. When he wanted to be, he could be really charming.

I went back to my office and noted that my staff was a little jittery and looking at my office door. They followed me as I went back to my office. "What's up?" I said it more rhetorically than to be answered. I knew that whatever was up, it was in my office.

They were going to warn me, but I barged into my office and found a man sitting at my desk in the semi-new chair I had dragged up from the basement. I looked back at my staff and they shrugged their shoulders. I walked to my desk and looked at the man across from me. He was obviously a doctor and from the barely noticeable beads of perspiration above his lip and the tapping of his finger on the chair arm, he was anxious.

"I'm Isibél O'Rourke." I reached across and shook his hand.

"Dr. Dylan Raven. Radiology."

"Dr. Raven, how can I help you?"

"Can you give me advice about a problem here at work?" Dr. Raven had black and gray hair, was medium build and, like his name, had sharp features and dark brown, almost black, eyes.

"Maybe. Or I can point you in the right direction."

"We're one of the largest Cancer treating facilities on the east coast. We keep a lot of Cesium 137 on hand." He looked at my face to see if I was following him.

Following? He looks scared to death and he mentions the words Cesium 137? My brain was in overdrive. Cesium 137 is one of the prime radioactive sources for a dirty bomb. I was thinking about every terrorist organization known to operate on the east coast.

Dr. Raven continued, "The isotope is used in cancer treatment, specifically brachytherapy, where a Cesium-137 source is placed within the cancerous area. I've discovered some Cesium-137 missing. I went through the books and we're missing 1000 Curies of it. I can't trace it and there's no record of it having been administered or implanted. This didn't happen overnight. It's been slowly eeking out."

I had to remember to breath. I started thinking about dirty bombs, about shutting down the hospital and stopping everyone from going in or out. But then I realized how ridiculous that would be since the Cesium had been leaving a little at a time.

I turned back to Dr. Raven, "I need to see all of your NRC records." I know I turned white. I don't think anyone else in the hospital would understand how horrific this was, but no one had to tell me. I could feel the blood drain and my stomach turn. My voice went hoarse as I repeated, "I'll need to see the records."

"Am I going to lose my position?" He was clearly worried and panicked.

I knew he wanted me to tell him it would all be okay, "I don't honestly know. You know this is serious. I need you to tell me your story."

"Story? About eight days ago I needed to treat a patient with Cesium 137. I took some from storage and carefully weighed it and logged it in the computer and log book. I needed some this morning. I looked at the log and no one had used any in between. That's unusual for us because we typically treat several patients a week with Cesium. However, some of our Oncologists have been on vacation and sometimes we get breaks like this. I noticed that the entire gross weight this morning was off by 2 Curie from what I logged eight days ago. That wouldn't necessarily be enough to worry about and had it been someone else who had done the logging, I would have ignored it. But I'm really finicky with my logging and it was enough for me to want to check it out more thoroughly. I went back over the NRC forms and our receipts and realized that we should have 1000 Curie more than what we have."

Breathe, breathe, breathe Isib_él , you need oxygen to deal with this. 1,000 Curie, oh Lord, why me? _"We have to notify the authorities."

"But I'll lose my job, won't I?"

"Screw your job. You're going to be a prime suspect and soon your job is going to be the last thing you'll be worried about. The longer you wait, the worst it will look. Let's go down to your department and check this out."

He went as white as I felt and then nodded.

We went down to Radiology and I started a cursory review. I watched him do the calculations and weigh the milligrams of Cesium 137 still left. From my preliminary review I could see discrepencies. He was right, they were probably down about 1000 Curie over a period of 3 years.

"We need to tell Dr.Cuddy."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, we have to – now."

Radiology was in the basement so we had to take the elevator up to the first floor. We walked into the outer office where the assistant was suppose to sit. Unfortunately, I found out that Dr. Cuddy had trouble keeping an assistant, so there was no one to leave a message with or to page her. She wasn't in her office. When I looked, it was 12:30 pm.

Dr. Raven said the obvious, "She's probably at lunch."

I turned around and jumped, "Crap! I had a lunch date." I tried House's extension but he wasn't answering. I took Dr. Raven back out to the clinic and asked at the charge desk, "Anyone know where Dr. Cuddy is? This is an emergency."

A nurse with a badge that read, "Nancy Rodger, R.N." spoke up. "She's probably down in the cafeteria having lunch. Dr. House came by a few minutes ago complaining that he had a lunch date that didn't show."

"Let's go." I said. Dr. Raven followed me to the cafeteria. I saw Dr. Cuddy at a table with House and Dr. Wilson. I walked right over. House perked up, thinking I was coming over to see him. He had a mischievous look on his face and his eyes actually twinkled!


	6. Chapter 4 Part 3

"It's about time you came to apologize." House said with bravado.

I ignored him and looked at Dr. Cuddy, "Dr. Cuddy, I need to have a moment of your time."

Lisa looked up from her salad and was about to tell me to sit down, but took one look at me and stood up. I've been told that when I am extremely worried or upset, I get an air of authority that would make the President of the United States ask me what I wanted _him to do. _I don't know what it looks like, but I know when I get it because I can't turn it off until my worry level comes down. I should look scared, instead everyone tells me I look in control – of everything.

Lisa came around to follow me out to the hall. House and Wilson both jumped up. I turned to House and pointed to the table, "You can sit down."

"Shouldn't you kiss me before you fuck me over?"

I blinked. In just the short hike down to the cafeteria I had forgotten that I had stood up House for lunch. "I'll french kiss you later, just let me have a moment with Cuddy."

"Much better." He sat back down.

Dr. Cuddy, Dr. Raven and I went out into the corridor. "We need somewhere private to talk." I said, looking for a room.

Cuddy pulled her key ring from her pocket and motioned to a classroom that was locked, "Here."

We went inside and I simply said, "We're currently in violation of the NRC Regulatory Rules and believe that 1000 Curies are missing of Cesium 137."

She said nothing for a few seconds, letting the import of it sink in. I heard her let out a breath, "Damn." She looked at me. "1000 Curies? Is that a lot?"

I sat down in a chair to conserve my energy. Lisa and Dr. Raven did the same. "I'm going from memory, but it's best that I give you an example so you'll understand. I'm sure Dr. Raven knows this, but please just hang in there. In 1987 in Goiania, Brazil a group of scavengers raided an abandoned cancer center and found a small lead canister, later selling it to a junkyard. A junkyard employee opened the container to discover a radiant, blue, glowing dust. The dust was Cesium-137. Approximately 250 individuals were exposed externally to it. Their exposure was approximately 1,375 Curie. Many of these individuals also experienced oral and dermal exposure because they rubbed the glittery powder on themselves. The estimated absorbed doses ranged from 1 to 7 Gray or 100 to 700 rad.

Cesium replaces potassium in tissues and cells. The exposed individuals showed signs and symptoms of acute radiation syndrome including vomiting, diarrhea, and nausea, as well as skin lesions from radiation burns, face and ear lesions, eye injuries including cataracts, bone marrow failure, some liver damage, and reduced sperm counts. Twenty individuals developed acute radiation syndrome, 14 individuals died. The problem with Cesium 137 is that it gives off gamma rays as well as beta particles. The gamma is short lived bursts of radiation waves that can penetrate skin – it's what killed most of the people in Hiroshima. The beta particles, if ingested, such as inhalation through the air or from touching exposed skin or clothing and transferring it to the nose, mouth or eyes, causes the long term damage and possible cancer. It has a half life of 30 years."

I rattled this off without taking more than two or three breaths. One thing I'm good at is memorizing facts and information. I have a photographic memory. A crappy relationship radar, but a great photographic memory. It means I can remember every cruel thing a boyfriend said or did to me. It comes in handy when I find myself wanting to get back together with them.

Lisa looked like she had a case of radiation poisoning. I could see her getting physically ill in front of me. I couldn't blame her, this was going to have a huge impact on the hospital and staff.

"Lisa, we need to notify the CIA, FBI, Homeland Security and the NRC. You're radiation department may be shut down until this has been reviewed, but I suspect it won't be. At least not in the beginning. Dr. Raven, you cannot mention this to anyone. I suspect we'll want to lay a trap for whoever is doing this." I realized I had said, "we", which normally would have indicated "the agency", I had to remember to be more careful, "We need for you to pull the records and take them up to Dr. Cuddy's office as soon as possible. Lisa, you need to have someone photocopy them and thenput them back as soon as possible so that the person doing this does not suspect that we know."

She nodded for Dr. Raven to leave and do as I asked.

When he was gone I turned back to a very disturbed Lisa. She was glowing from the sweat on her brow. "Lisa, someone has been taking the Cesium over an extended period of time, probably to sell to a particular person, probably for someone interested in putting together a dirty bomb."

"Dirty bomb?" She closed her eyes, trying to block it all out.

"It takes about 3,000 Curies of Cesium 137 to put together a dirty bomb that could cause significant immediate loss of life. However, that doesn't mean a dirty bomb with less wouldn't do significant economical, physical and psychological damage. It would take just 30 curies of Cs137, less than a gram, dispersed over a square mile to make the area uninhabitable, according to the maximum dose currently recommended for the general population. However,the health effects of 30 Curies would be minimal. For every 100,000 people exposed to that level of radiation, four lifetime cancers would be induced."

"Are you sure? Only an increase of four lifetime cancers in 100,000? That doesn't sound that bad."

"Well, I'll give you the example that I was given. The Federation of American Scientists calculated that the Cesium-137 in a medical gauge, a fairly small amount, detonated in a Dirty Bomb at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, would cover about 40 city blocks with radiation that would _exceed_ Environmental Protection Agency contamination limits. The EPA sets a one in 10,000 chance of getting cancer as its threshold. This area might, depending on wind direction, include the Capitol, Supreme Court, and Library of Congress. If decontamination were not possible, these areas would have to be abandoned for decades."

Lisa took in a sharp breath and dropped her jaw in shock.

"It is one of the favored isotopes for a dirty bomb. Some isotopes do more harm than others, and some elements, such as Cesium, bond strongly to concrete and asphalt, which means it's hard to clean up and it sticks around for awhile."

I said nothing more. I stood up and walked out. Lisa followed as quickly as possible, locking the door behind her. We went to her office. I went around, sat in her chair and called my supervisor, I mean my former supervisor. As I was put on hold, I told Lisa, "I know you're required to keep a lot of the recorded information of the Cesium's use in an electronic database. I suggest you have ready on disc a copy of the operating procedures, personal monitoring and survey records, your instrument calibration records, waste management records, and records of worker training."

She smiled at me and motioned for me to get up so she could have access to her computer. I had been completely unconscious of me taking over her chair and desk. When it dawned on me that I had usurped her, I blushed. I don't think she saw it and frankly, I don't think she cared. I took the phone and walked around the desk and sat down in the visitor's chair. I waited for my former supervisor, Michael Morell, to pick up.

"Michael Morell." He said in his calm voice of authority.

"Michael, it's Isibél O'Rourke."

His voice changed to one of pleasant recognition, " Isibél, how are you?"

"Michael, I'm doing well, but I called because we have a serious problem at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. We have 1000 Curies of Cesium-137 missing. It's gone missing over a period of three years."

"Damn." There was a long pause, "I'd expect maybe 20-40 max. Who knows?"

"The Dean of Medicine, the doctor who discovered it and me."

"FBI?"

"They're the next on my list." I knew what was coming.

"Can you wait an hour?"

"Sure, but just an hour. Then we're bringing in the NRC and the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection."

"Do you guys have a helio-pad?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks O'Rourke, I owe you." He hung up.

I looked at my watch. It was 1:20 pm, I would call the FBI in an hour, on the dot. I set the alarm on my watch and went over behind the desk to watch what Lisa was doing.

"This is where we keep it, under a security password. Do you want the password?"

"No, give it to the CIA when they arrive. I suspect we'll see the first wave of agents in about ten minutes. But first save this information on a disc and hide it somewhere...somewhere they're unlikely to look or find it." I know that Lisa thought she should give me the password because of my CIA background, but the more I knew, the more involved I would have to get and I had developed magical thinking. I magically thought I could stay out of it.

She saved the information and then left for a minute. I was still in the office when agents Ken Ditler and Beth Cornell showed up.

"Isibél? What are you doing here, are you with the Farm again?" Ken reached out and shook my hand as did Beth.

"I work here at PPTH, this was my second day on the job."

They chuckled. "You sure know how to step into it. What's the procedure?"

Now I chuckled. Despite the fact that I no longer worked for the CIA they were expecting me to give them orders. "Ken, this is your show. How far out is Morell?"

He tapped his bluetooth, "ETA Morell?" There was a pause and then he looked at me, "Thirty-two minutes."

"The information you want to start with is on the screen and in these photocopied logs. I'd start with the calibration company, find out how reputable they are with their calibration of the scales. Then I'd review the documents in that pile. I think if you go through it, you'll see that the Cesium doesn't disappear at a steady rate, it disappears about 20 Curie at a time. A pretty big chunk each time a new shipment came in. I'd coordinate the whereabouts of everyone in Radiology on those dates and then spread out to other personnel from there."

They didn't waste time, they started doing what I had suggested. I sat on the couch and was waiting for Morell when Lisa came in. "Lisa, these are Agents Ditler and Cornel, CIA. The Associate Deputy Director of the CIA will be here in twenty-six minutes. He's flying in from Langley and will be landing on your helio-pad." She turned white and sat down next to me.

"Associate Deputy Director? That sounds important."

"He was with President Bush on 9/11." I smiled at her and patted her hand. I looked up at my friends and introduced Lisa, "This is Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine."

They came over and shook her hand. Ditler said very calmly, "Dr. Cuddy, we'll try not to get in your way too much. In fact, we'd rather not make a big fuss because we want to catch this guy. The cover story for the AD coming in is that he came to Princeton to discuss Homeland Security. That's the cover story but we doubt anyone will ask. Most people don't know him and don't know what he looks like. But, just in case. Understand?"

Lisa nodded.

Cornel smiled to put her at ease, "We'll provide you with a script just in case."

They went back to their work. I patted Lisa's hand again and got up to get her some water. We waited out the next twenty-odd minutes in silence. The doors to her office finally opened and a very serious Michael Morell walked into the room followed by his Assistant Bill Sidnam.

To everyone's surprise, Michael walked up to me and gave me a quick hug. "Isibél, we really do miss you. You can come back you know." Morell is preppy and boyish with light brown hair tufted at the part and wears wire-rimmed glasses. Soft spoken, he speaks the clear, precise language of the CIA, choosing his words well and effortlessly.

"Thanks Michael. I need to brief you and then I have an appointment that's rather important."

"Fine."

I briefed him, my alarm went off and I smiled, "You're time is up. I'm dialing the FBI. You may want to put a call through yourself." I started dialing my FBI contact, Kelly Ferguson, from memory. I saw Morell speed dial someone; I assumed it was either Pistolle or Mueller at the FBI. I pitied Lisa, but she had been instructed not to say or do anything yet. Just before I left I heard Morell tell her that all the agencies were going to meet offsite so that they didn't raise suspicions. I was right, they were going to try and catch the guy in the act.

"Michael, Call me on my cell if you need me, it's the same number as before, I haven't gotten a local number yet."

"We're meeting later in Room 204 in the Salk Building at 5:00 pm, can you make it?"

"I'll try." I smiled and left. As I left Cuddy's office she came running after me.

" Isibél, please don't run off. I don't know what I'm expected to do."

"I have to go talk to House, strike while the iron is hot so to speak. Um, they're not meeting until 5:00 pm so I suggest you try and do what you would normally do, but make yourself available if necessary.

"Why don't I come with you to talk to him?" Lisa was very competent, but this breach of security had thrown her into an area she had never expected to find herself. I think I was like a life raft to her, this was at least familiar territory for me.

"Normally I'd welcome your company. But for reasons I can't reveal right now, I need to see him alone. I will tell you something you can start doing. Pretend as if you are doing a budget analysis of personnel and ask H.R. for all staff records for January 30th of last year and January 3rd of this year. Start with just the people who would typically have access to the Radiology Department. Those are two dates I remember that large amounts of Cesium were taken. You can start seeing if you notice a pattern or someone who you think "fits the bill" for either having a grudge against the USA or needing money.

"Okay, I can do that." She shot off like a bullet. I liked Lisa, as long as she had a purpose or occupation, she was fine.

I went up to the second floor and discovered that House was nowhere to be found. It was almost 4:00 pm. I checked with some nurses and they told me that his patient was having exploratory surgery and that he often watched from the galley. I obtained directions and found him in a small room at the top of some stairs, watching surgery on a boy.

I walked in and he glanced at me and then back to the patient. "I don't have time for you," he said in a crisp clear voice.

"I can see. I was wondering if I could simply schedule another time for us to meet."

He leaned on the wall and continued to watch the operation. He said nothing, but I didn't say anything or move. Finally he looked quickly into my eyes and then back again, "Do you think his parents will mind him losing a leg because my team refused to run an expensive test when I told them to?"

I was immediately distracted by the little boy and his leg. This would be the test that I had heard on the digital recorder. "I think I'd sue you and your team if I were them." I said it dispassionately, without judgment. I simply stated the obvious.

"Well then, lucky for them I started the treatment before the idiots got the test results. We're going to save his leg, but I think I need a new team. This one is starting to think they have brains and don't need me."

"Do they always disobey you?"

"Just Cameron. She led the pack this time. My new Fellows followed her. If I still had Chase and Foreman on my team they would have done it."

"I'm afraid you've lost me, I'm new and don't know who you are talking about."

"Dinner?" He asked.

I switched gears from the boy and his team back to my original purpose. I wasn't sure how long the meeting with Morell would take. "I have a very important meeting at 5:00 pm. Can I call you when I get out and meet you somewhere?"

"I eat dinner before 8:00 pm."

"Well, let's say that if I don't call by 6:30 pm, we'll reschedule."

"You're buying."

I chuckled, "Of course. I'll see you later. Goodbye."

He said nothing.

As I was leaving the room I stopped and turned back to face him. He sensed that I hadn't left and turned in response. "Dr. House, I suspect that what you did today is probably par for the course for you, but saving that child's leg was a great thing to do."

He held up his cane to emphasize the loss of his own, "I know."

I smiled at him, nodded and left. _Damn. Brilliant, decisive, arrogant. Sounds just like what always gets me into trouble. At least this time I know better. I know he's trying to play me._

I went down to the basement, to Radiology and saw Ditler in the office with Dr. Raven. Ditler was dressed in a lab coat and was holding up an X-ray and pretending to talk to Dr. Raven about it. They waved me into the room.

"Hi, I just thought I'd come down and see if I could be of any help." I said.

Ditler nodded, "We need the handwritten logs showing the patients and doctors who sign in every day. Dr. Raven isn't sure he knows where the pages are sent when they're full. I can't ask the staff for them or it will look strange. Since the staff still isn't quite sure what you do for a living, why don't you go out and ask them where they put them?"

"Sure, I can do that." I left the Ditler and Dr. Raven to talk about the protocols that were in place and it sounded like Dr. Raven was being very candid about some of the department's lapses, including occasionally not locking the door from the waiting room to the back. Apparently, the door to the storage was always locked and required an i.d. to get inside. So, the failure to lock the waiting room door was unfortunate, but not consider an unacceptable breach of security.

I walked out to the small room at the front where the assistants checked in the patients. I found a group of nurses and assistants standing, having a chat. "Hi, I'm Isibél O'Rourke, the new attorney in the SWB department. I've had complaints about the sign-in sheets and the storage of them from some of the departments. I need to analyze who signs in within each department, the formats of the sheets, whether we need different information when they sign in and how to store them. I'm trying to see if we can simplify and improve the procedure in some way. Where do you keep the sheets when they're full?"

They looked at each other and grimaced. One brave nurse came forward. "We store one year's worth, but the rest were just taking up space so we started punching holes in them and turning them over. We use the back in our three ring notes and message binders. In other words, if the sign in sheet is more than a year old, it's still here, but it's been recycled as something else."

I thought it was brilliant that they didn't waste the paper, but it made my task so much more difficult to piece together. "I'm doing my analysis based on the last three years, can you please pull me the notebooks that recycled those dates?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. Each doctor and nurse keeps their own notes and messages. The sheets are going to be scattered throughout the department."

I tried my best not to look desperate. I pulled the nurse aside, "Nurse...?'

"Bucher, Rachel Bucher."

"Nurse Bucher, this was my first big assignment from Cuddy and you know if I don't follow through on this one, she's going to think I'm incompetent. I really need your help. Can you ask everyone to bring there notebooks if they have any of the dates were talking about and leave them with you. I'll pick them up tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

She looked at me, realized the task I had handed her and balked. I knew I had to sweeten the pot. "You know, as part of the Well-Being Department, we get freebies all the time, including vouchers for local spas and movies. Do this for me and I'll hook you up with some freebies."

"Fine, but it seems like a stupid task, trying to simplify a form that has three columns."

"I know, but there you have it." I shrugged my shoulders. "Thanks Nurse Bucher."

"Rachel, call me Rachel."

"Rachel, please call me Isibél."

I left and went back to my office to see what other fires had come up and discovered that the State Attorney General had called to talk to me about Gregory House. Crap.

It was almost quitting time, not the best time to call someone back, but I really wanted to know what she wanted before I went to meet him. I called Assistant Attorney Moore and was eventually put through to her. She sounded cheerful for being so late in the day.

"Attorney Moore."

"Hi, this is Isibél O'Rourke at PPTH. I believe you called me regarding Dr. House?"

"I was calling your predecessor. I can't say that I'm surprised she's gone. She was sounding pretty heavily medicated the last time I spoke to her. Each time I called her about Gregory House I'd hear a pathetic little whimper. The last time I talked to her, she started laughing maniacally when I told her he was going to be suspended if he didn't get his act together. I think she was over the moon when I told her that."

"Well, that doesn't sound very professional does it?"

"I haven't had one attorney there who has managed to stay professional when it comes to House. Be careful, he's _evil_."She said it so convincingly that a little shudder went down my back.

"So are you calling to tell me he is suspended?"

"Not yet. We've decided that he has to go through rehab– for real this time. He has sixty days to go to rehab and get rid of his Vicodin habit."

"But he really is in pain. His leg is mince meat."

"That's sad, but if he had managed to act somewhat sane while he has been hooked on the Vicodin, then we might have overlooked the ever-increasing dosage. But he's getting worse and we're getting complaints by the handful from staff and patients. I have to admit that the patients typically beg us not to suspend or strike him from the rolls, but they do ask us to do something about his demeanor. It seems that everyone recognizes his genius which is why he's gotten away with a lot."

"I know. I saw him save a little boy's leg despite the fact that several other doctors had delayed important tests that would have helped diagnosis the problem sooner. He's arrogant, but I'd beg to have him assigned to my case if it looked bad.'

"Between you and me, I agree. I've been monitoring this guy for a couple of years and I know what he can do. But letting him get away with addiction sends a horrible message to all the doctors who play by the rules."

"I understand. Will you be sending the hospital a written notice?"

"It was mailed today. Well, Isibél, I hope I can call you Isibél? I have a feeling we're going to be talking a lot to each other."

"Yes, of course."

"Well Isibél, good luck and if you need to talk to me or need any questions answered about the ruling, feel free to call me."

We hung up and I felt frustrated. I had hoped to get him into rehab before the threat of suspension loomed. Under a definitive threat of suspension, he was likely to tell the Attorney General's office to go screw themselves. _I have one chance to get him in before he has time to really think about it and get himself worked up, that's tonight._

I scurried to the meeting and discovered that they were going to put an agent in undercover. Of course Cuddy and I would know the agent and I suspect Dr. Raven would too, but Raven wasn't in the meeting. Frankly, before the week was through, I knew that Dr. Raven would be so overwhelmed by the CIA and FBI interviewing him that he wouldn't take a piss without wondering if he was being monitored. They wouldn't be having any problems with Dr. Raven behaving or cooperating. By now his home was bugged and his car tagged with a responder to show his movements.

Morell asked me to do the analysis of the sign-in sheets and personnel movements. I knew I was the best person for the job and could get it done in half the time that someone else at the hospital could, including Dr. Cuddy. I could see patterns where others wouldn't.

I asked for a clerk from the CIA to help reassemble the sign-in sheets. They said they'd send Ralph Makowski up from the Farm the next day. I loved Ralph, he was organized and he was funny. He had worked under me for four years before I left. I think he, more than anyone else, missed me at The Company.

When I left the meeting, I looked at my watch and it said it was 6:25 pm. I grabbed my phone and pulled out the piece of paper with House's phone number. It rang and rang and rang. The answering machine picked up. I was pissed. I play by the rules, if I had until 6:30 pm to call then _he should still be there_.

"If I had wanted to talk to you, I'd have answered the phone." His voice said on the machine. Then there was the obligatory beep and I left a message, "Dr. House, I thought we said 6:30 pm, but apparently I was mistaken. I'm going to go get something to eat at Main Street Bistro if you're in the area. Otherwise, I'll see you at the hospital tomorrow. Goodnight."

I dressed in my motorcycle gear and rode my bike over to the restaurant and looked for his. It wasn't there. I went into the bar and looked around, it was an average bistro. I climbed a bar stool and ordered a shot of Patrón and a Margarita. The bartender handed me a menu and I thought I would order a chicken waldorf salad when he took my order. I had just knocked back the shot of Patrón when I heard House's voice behind me.

"Hi there, I'm a human being, what are you?"

"You're mother." I answered and waved the bartender over.

"You always drink alone?" he asked.

"It beats drinking with you." I tipped my margarita at him. "What's your poison?"

"Glenfiddich." he told the bartender.

"Shall we get a table?"

"I'd rather get a room." He said without missing a beat.

I nodded to the hostess and she showed us to a table. We sat down and settled in. The waitress brought over his drink and took our dinner order. I looked at him in his rumpled blue shirt and levis. He hadn't changed from what he was wearing early, so obviously he didn't see me as a reason to take the time to groom himself. I still couldn't get over how this sloppiness and half-grown beard worked for him, but it did. His gray-brown beard emphasized his lovely square jaw and striking blue eyes. His mouth was slightly wide for his face, but the beard helped to diminish it. Still his mouth was in the perfect shape of a cupid's bow. He was so good looking, in a beat up manly way, that you would have expected him to be married or living with someone. It certainly said a lot about his personality that he was single.

"I wanted to go over this brochure with you. It talks about the signs and symptoms of addiction in doctors. You deny that you're addicted, don't' you?"

"Not at all, I know I'm addicted, but I'm addicted because I have to take a buttload of drugs to get rid of the horrendous pain. Would you like me to show you why?" He started to play with the zipper and button on his Levis.

"You can show me some other time." I gave him a look of displeasure. I continued to read, "Addicted physicians feel that as long as they can do their job, they do not have a problem. That's true isn't it?"

He laughed at me, "The drugs let me do the job. Without the drugs, the pain is too much, I can't think."

"It's my understanding from people at the hospital that you've always been an ss. But they say it's gotten worse, that you have wide mood swings, periods of depression, anger and irritability alternating with periods of euphoria. All of these are signs of addiction according to this brochure."

He said nothing at first, "What the hell do you expect? I went from being an active human to being constantly in pain and unable to do anything. Don't you think I'm entitled to little depression, anger, irritability and mood swings?"

"Is it difficult for your team to find you between cases?" I kept reading, "Are you often napping after using drugs or having unexplained absences?"

I saw him look away. I had hit a nerve. I knew he had good attendance record, but I had heard that he frequently would hide in various places and nap if he didn't have a patient. He said, "Where is this going? Do you think you can save me?"

I put on my face of authority and simply said, "I'm arranging for you to go into rehab and this time, you'll be peeing in a bottle every day in front of me or Dr. Cuddy."

"That's sexual harassment."

"Only if you actually had something I could sexually harass you about. Frankly, sex with an addict is low on my list. I know Vicodin addiction and it causes sexual impotence or softness, constipation, bladder and kidney problems. Not my idea for great sex. I suspect you have some of these symptoms or you'd have a girlfriend."

"Would you like to take me out for a spin and see if it's a problem?"

"I don't really care if you can get it up or not. I only care that you have an addiction and it's taking you down the rabbit hole."

"You've been on the job two days and you've got me figured out?"

"I don't think I have you figured out, I've read your files and have talked to people. I also received a call from the Attorney General's office today asking me what you are going to do about the addiction? I told them that you were going into rehab."

He was angry and his head shook back and forth, "Like hell. I'm not going into rehab. _I need the Vicodin for the pain._" His voice had risen to the point that people were staring at us.

"Dr. House, this isn't an option. The Attorney General and the New Jersey Medical Board are going to pull your license if you don't go through rehab within the next 60 days. You'll get the notice in the mail today or tomorrow. I want to help. I'm not judging you."

I watched him and he was quieter now that he knew this wasn't some fantasy of mine to save the big mean doctor. He was concerned that it was an order from the people who could pull his license to practice. We sat in silence, I knew that if I said something to him at this point, he would turn it into a reason why he wasn't going to go into rehab. I let him stew and think it over.

He pinched his lips together and frowned, "Are they really going to suspend my license?"

"Yes. I told them about the work you do, about the little boy today, but they said you set a bad example for other doctors who play be the rules."

"Other doctors don't have a huge gapping scar where a leg muscle used to be." He bit his upper lip. The waitress brought the food and sat it down in front of us. I began to eat. He held up his cheeseburger and then asked, "What was up today? You were pretty dramatic at lunch, barking orders at Cuddy to follow you."

"I can't tell you, it had to do with one of the employees." I took a quick bite, "Dr. House, you're ducking the issue. Please let me arrange for you to go into rehab. I have a bed selected at a very exclusive one just outside of Washington D.C."

"D.C.! No, I'm not going down there. I'll go back to PPTH's rehab."

'That's not a good idea. Your staff can come up and grab you, take you away from getting better." I stabbed a piece of chicken and apple.

"It's PPTH or nothing."

I tried to look perturbed and upset, but this was actually my plan. I knew I had to give him something to fight about and win or he wouldn't do it. I pretended to be frustrated, "Do you want to get better or is this all for show?"

"You assume I need to get better. I don't."

"Alright, but your staff is not to contact you while you're in rehab, and like I said, I watch you pee and I deliver the samples to the lab."

"Are you into golden showers or something?"

"Eat your dinner." I said, rather disgusted at that remark.

He took a bite and then started to talk to me with his mouth full, "Where did you work before this?"

I grimaced, "Stop talking with your mouth full, it's disgusting. I was an analyst in a Washington think tank."

"What type of think tank?" He asked, suddenly interested in what I had to say.

"A boring one. I'd study foreign political systems and write reports about their legal, economical and political systems."

"Did you work for the government?" He asked?

I nodded as I ate my salad, choosing not to actually speak. _Is there no end to this man's curiosity?_

"What branch?"

"Federal." I said.

"_Answer the question– what branch?"_

"State Department." It was a viable response as I had provided many reports to the State Department, so it wasn't a complete lie.

He seemed to accept my answer. "Have you always been so aloof and annoyingly evasive?"

"Have you always been vulgar and mean?"

"You first.'

I smiled, "Believe it or not Dr. House, some people have found me rather charming."

"Who? Stalin?"

"I understand you once had a girlfriend, how did she ever put up with you? Were you mean to her?"

"Yeah, I was in the end."

I just nodded and looked down, "Sorry, that was too personal."

"Why do you ride a bike?"

"Because I enjoy it. What about you?"

"The same. Yours is a 500?"

"I don't need a lot of power with my weight. That Repsol of yours is a lot of motorcycle."

He nodded, "It was too much for the previous owner, he dropped it."

"Oh, so you didn't put the scrapes on the side?"

"No, just the butt print on the seat."

I chuckled.

We talked for another half hour and he agreed to enter rehab the following Monday. I felt like I had just been through a debriefing after a mission. He was hard work.


	7. Chapter 5 the real one

**Chapter 5**

**DAZED AND CONFUSED**

Isibél was amused to see that the next day Agent Stanley Compton showed up as Stanley Johnson, PPTH orderly. He was assigned to take patients back and forth from Oncology and Orthopedics to Radiology. It gave him access to most of the hospital and especially Radiology. Isibél and Stanley acted like they had never met, even though they had once dated for a hot and heavy six months. Stanley was handsome, about 36 and, if Isibél was making comparisons, one of the hottest guys she had taken into her bed. She couldn't help but smile a little when they passed in the corridors. Stanley had that Rob Lowe thing going on. He was so good looking he was almost pretty. It helped him a lot when he was doing clandestine work because he could really charm the ladies.

A little later in the day, Isibél went down to see Lisa Cuddy. Lisa was behind her desk, staring at a wall and chewing the cuticles off of her right index finger. Isibél knew this was a bad sign. When someone as tough as Lisa starts chewing chunks out of her body, she's in bad shape.

Isibél knocked and Lisa motioned through the french doors for her to come inside. "Good Afternoon." Isibél offered.

"Hi. Any news?"

Isibél looked around and was sure that Lisa Cuddy's office was bugged by now. "Yes, good news. Greg House has agreed to go through rehab starting next Monday."

Isibél could tell that this wasn't the news Lisa was looking for, but at the same time it caught her interest. "Really? How'd you manage that?"

"The Attorney General called and said they were suspending him unless he went through rehab. I also made him promise to pee in the bottle every morning in front of either you or me."

"Better you than me. I'd prefer to stay away from his penis if you don't mind."

"Was the sex that bad?"

She giggled and shook her head, "It was that good. I'd prefer to keep my memories of it intact."

"Lisa, about the other thing, I'm working on it and so are others. Don't worry about it for now. We have someone looking at logs, at videotape surveillance and your vendors. We'll figure it out. Besides, you aren't the only facility under scrutiny." Isibél was referring to the fact that a very famous east coast University's med school had a similar problem and was dealing with the same issues just before she left the Farm.

"Who?"

"I can't say. Look, I have to get back, I have an appointment with a nurse that bought a house and the previous owners failed to disclose the leaky roof that has a horrible patch on it. They've found some mold. I have to write a 'nastygram' as we called them at my previous employer."

"Well, congratulations on getting House to do what the last two lawyers couldn't get him to do."

"I think if I hadn't had the Attorney General's threat of suspension he wouldn't have bought it ." She paused, "But I need your help. We need your best pain specialist to consult with him about the leg. He won't be able to stay clean if he's in pain all the time."

"Great, just great. The best specialist would be Francis Bordeaux and he hates House. House told his wife that he was having an affair."

"Was he?"

"Oh yeah. House is cruel, but he's usually truthfully cruel."

"I need for you to convince Bordeaux that it is in his best interests to treat House."

"I think I can do that." Lisa said. Lisa picked up the phone and called Bordeaux. There was no doubt from Lisa's end of the conversation that Bordeaux was resistant to the idea. Lisa managed to remind him that he had just put in for a pain management seminar on St. Bart's and it hadn't been approved yet. A few minutes later Lisa put the phone down.

"House has an appointment with him at 4:00pm tomorrow. Can you get him there?"

"I'll do my best."

After Isibél left, she heard Lisa sit back and sigh. Isibél knew that Lisa was worried that her whole career could go down in flames from this breach. Isibél watched through the french doors as Lisa shook her head to dismiss her thoughts and started making her phone calls for the morning.

Ralph Makowski was busy sorting through notebooks and piecing together logs from three years back. When Isibél walked into her office, his face lit up. He was occupying a makeshift desk that had been set up where Isibél had planned to put a sofa and chair. The cover story for Ralph was that he was Isibél's temporary assistant and had followed her from her previous job in Washington at the State Department. Ralph had set aside specific dates that he found corresponded with discrepancies in the Cesium logs. Some discrepancies were to be expected so they alone hadn't triggered a reaction by anyone. You had to piece all of the logs together before it raised an alarm. Ralph shook his head to indicate that he didn't have anything of interest yet.

Gregory House was in rare form. There had been several interesting additions to his circle of acquaintances, including Isibél and a new doctor named Tiffany Neuburger. Tiffany was about 30 and had brown hair and brown eyes. She smoldered and ignored him. He didn't liked to be ignored, especially by beautiful doctors who were single and straight. He had discovered that she was a cardiologist. His current patient didn't have any heart problems, but House was trying to invent a reason for a cardiology consult.

Besides Tiffany, there was the stoic Isibél O'Rourke. She was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason. He figured she was in her late thirties from some of the cultural references she made the night before although she looked like she was maybe 32. Isibél did nothing for him, she was boring and had spent her career in Washington D.C. – even more boring. She dressed like an anal retentive executive lawyer and sounded even more boring than one. Her skirts fell well below her boring knees, her hair was boring and always in place. Her makeup was minimal and applied to downplay, rather than accentuate, her sensuality. But, as boring as she was, she was still fodder for his games with Cuddy. Getting under Isibél's skin and forcing her to quit would continue to make Cuddy's life miserable and for some reason, that made House happy.

Before he went home, he called Dr. Neuburger to, "ask a question about his patient," but she wasn't in. He went back to his pathetic patient, the one with the non-existent heart condition. He was pleased with the reaction the patient was having to his new treatment so House popped a few Vicodin, grabbed his backpack and went home.

Isibél went home to the Embassy Suites that night and had a shot of Bailey's in her coffee. She looked through the ads in the paper to see if there was an apartment that caught her interest. She circled a few and started calling to set up viewings for Saturday. She thought about the last time she had rented an apartment, it was for her and Alex, her fiancé. She had insisted that he accompany her even though he could care less what they rented as long as it didn't break the budget he had set. They found a two bedroom apartment close to Langley. It was a flavorless apartment, generic and pathetic, but it was perfect for them because of its proximity to Langley. It turned out that they spent so little time in it that the fact it was boring was irrelevant.

She missed Alex. He could be so funny when he wanted to be. And on the rare occasion, he could be extremely romantic. He once set up a candlelight dinner in the courtyard of the Langley buildings. He complained that unless he did, he would never see her. Isibél, after her promotion, had practically started living at the Farm and only saw Alex when they ran into each other at Langley.

When she was done setting up the appointments for Saturday, Isibél went into the bedroom and pulled out her jewelry chest. She tried to resist the need to read it, but she couldn't. She felt so alone lately. She missed Alex, she missed the Farm, she missed the people and the structure of her former job. The abrupt change in the rhythm of her life was all a little overwhelming. The letter always helped, it also always hurt. At the bottom of the jewelry chest she pushed down, and with a spring action, the bottom of the chest sprung up revealing a secret compartment. Inside was just enough room for a letter, written in Russian, addressed to her. It was from Pavel, written to her eight years ago. She didn't have to read it, she had memorized it. But she liked to see the strokes of his handwriting and touch the page that he had touched.

My love,

We cannot go on and we both know it. I must return and you must not follow this time. I want you to know that your love has been the only thing sustaining me for these last two years. I wish I could continue to lay in your arms and hold you, but I must go back. I will always love you. Take care my darling and be happy.

Pavel.

Sometimes it was too much to bear and she would let herself cry. She didn't like to cry, to give up control, to succumb to her feelings. But there were times when she was so alone and missed him so much that she let herself feel the pain. She climbed into bed holding the only thing she had left of him, his letter, and then she'd feel the tears. A few minutes later she gingerly put the letter back and replaced the secret panel. Knowing it was there was usually enough.

The next day when she met with Ralph he informed her that he was no closer to knowing who it was than the day before. There were very few dates where the same person overlapped between the log and the missing Cesium. A few people did show up more than once, including Dr. Raven and surprisingly, Gregory House. But still, there was no significant pattern.

Isibél saw that Lisa Cuddy was regaining her composure and maintaining her typical outward appearance of a woman in charge of things. She walked straight shouldered, with a fast clip and talked in her brusque business tone. She was starting to adapt to what was happening and that was good.

Isibél made her way down to Dr. House's office. He was sitting behind the desk looking rather preoccupied with a computer game. She walked in and he looked up and then back at the screen.

"Hi, I need you at 4:00 pm." she said without fanfare.

His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. "I don't think so."

"Dr. House, you need an exam before the rehab and I've arranged for one."

He looked back at her and shook his head, "Who is supposedly going to do this?"

"Dr. Bordeaux."

House let out a really strange, phoney laugh and then cut it off abruptly, "Hell, no."

She sat down on the corner of his desk and smiled. He looked at her butt on the desk as if it was a slab of meat he wanted removed. "Dr. House. You can look at my rear end or you can look at my eyes, they're both going to tell you the truth. You will be going to your appointment today, with me, or Lisa says you can go home and find someone else to write your Vicodin prescription."

He snorted at her in anger, "What, have all the uppity women united?"

Isibél chuckled, "I'll see you at 4:00 pm. in Dr. Bordeaux's office."

Isibél couldn't believe how fast the time flew. She and Ralph had finally put together the last three months of the logs. They spent a lot of time trying to input them into the computer. At 4:00 pm Isibél ran to the first floor offices of the pain management team. House was already inside with the doctor. Isibél started to go in when the nurse tried to stop her.

"Oh, I'm suppose to be in there." She burst through the door and was a little stunned to see Greg House with his pants down revealing a horrible scar that took up a good portion of his right thigh. She flinched when she saw it, her stomach knotting. He must be in pain. My God, he barely has enough muscle left to make it worthwhile keeping the leg, he'd get more use out of a prosthetic.

House looked her in the eye, "Sit down and give your mind a rest."

Dr. Bordeaux pushed around the edge of the scar and watched House flinch or wince, "House, you have neuralgia. I'll run the nerve conduction tests just to define it better, but you're going to have only a few options. Except for the ever increasing doses of Vicodin, your pain won't be responsive to drug treatment. I've had great success with a procedure called microvascular decompression, in which tiny blood vessels are surgically separated from the surrounding nerves. We could also give you a dorsal root entry zone operation, or DREZ. Spinal neurons corresponding to your pain are destroyed surgically. Because surgery can result in scar tissue formation that may cause additional problems, I'd advise you to seek a second opinion before proceeding with DREZ. We can also do surgery where we selectively damage neurons in a targeted area of the brain with electrodes. But let's run the tests and see what it gets us. If we can get the pain level down, then you can exercise the leg. The more you exercise it, the more healthy nerves will grow back. We can do a combination of the above operations with a nerve graft too."

House dressed again and Doctor Bordeaux looked at me, "Why are you here, I thought you were the new SBW attorney?"

"I'm his mother." She reached out and shook Bordeaux's hand, "He's going into rehab on Monday and we need an alternative relief to the Vicodin for the pain he's experiencing."

"You're going to take him off Opiates without an alternative pain treatment?"

"That's why we're here. Is there any way you can do something for his pain temporarily?"

House smiled at the doctor, "You see, she and Cuddy are desperately trying to make me into a Eunuch. They really want you to take my balls off."

Isibél looked at House, "Ah, Dr. House, you know that I'm doing just the opposite, giving you back the virility Vicodin took away."

"Oh is that what they're calling it?" House said.

"Doctor, is there something you can do?

"House, I could give you a nerve block. But it won't take away the psychological pain."

"I don't have imaginary pain, I have real pain."

"Do you want the nerve block?" the doctor asked.

"Monday, before I check in upstairs in rehab."

"I'll come in around 8:00 a.m., okay?" Bordeaux asked.

House nodded. House and Isibél went downstairs to his office. "Are you and Cuddy happy now?"

"I want to apologize."

He looked puzzled.

"I didn't know the magnitude of your injury."

He looked annoyed and wagged his face in hers, "Oh for God's sake, I don't want your pity."

"I know. I just felt as if I had minimized your pain. It was unfair to you."

"I have work to do."

She nodded and left.

When the weekend rolled around Isibél spent the day going to different apartments only to find that most of them had been rented already. She finally found one that was in a neighborhood of brick houses. It was a one bedroom and leased for a year, longer than she wanted. Isibél had hoped to buy a house, but she needed someplace to live. She rented the apartment on the spot.

Isibél drove down to her storage facility and, with the help of Ralph and a few others who had gone home for the weekend, loaded up a rental truck and drove to the apartment.

Ralph looked around, "Isi this is a nice place! I love the vaulted ceilings, cove ceiling and molding. It's cool."

"Look at the kitchen."

He went in and whistled. "Wow! I love all the granite and the stainless steel vents. Now that's a gourmet kitchen. Too bad you're not a gourmet cook."

She hit him in the arm, "I can cook!"

"You may cook, but when do you have the time?"

"Okay, now that's true. But when I want to I can cook."

They unloaded the queen sized bed and, with a lot of will power, unloaded the dresser and chest of drawers. Isibél was strong for her height and weight although she didn't look like it to the outside world. Nonetheless, the move still took it out of her. She and Ralph collapsed, had pizza and then Ralph went back to his own room at the Embassy Suites where he was staying while in Princeton.

Isibél settled in and started unpacking the things she hadn't seen for a few weeks. It was always fun to set up a new place and she started trying to imagine where she would hang her art and photos. Around ten she collapsed in bed and fell asleep.

Monday morning at 8:00 am Isibél was waiting in Dr. Bordeaux's office with him. House hadn't showed up yet. It was 8:12 and Isibél was getting a sinking feeling.

"I guess he decided not to..."

The door blasted open. House walked in carrying a small suitcase and looking like he had just woke up. He looked stoned out of his mind.

Dr. Bordeaux shook his head, "You certainly tanked up before rehab didn't you?"

"Just give me the block." House's speech was slow and deliberate from the Vicodin.

The doctor gave him the block along the nerves from the right thigh to the spine. Within a few minutes House nodded. He tried to stand up, but the leg gave out. "Until you adjust to the block, it's best you use a wheelchair. Once the Vicodin clears out of your system, you'll be able to walk. I'll come up on Wednesday and give you a booster."

"Okay." House said and then added a reluctant, "Thanks."

Isibél found a wheelchair and managed to get House into it. She wheeled him up in silence to the fifth floor. She took him to the check-in and waited for the nurse to check him into the clinic. They took him from her and said, "We've got it from here." As she left she saw them tearing apart House's suitcase, checking for drugs.

Isibél hit the elevator button and waited for it to come upstairs. When the doors opened, Dr. Wilson got off. He pointed towards the rehab center with his thumb, "Is he checked in?"

"Yes. They sent me away. I'll go back and see him later. They might let you in since you're a doctor."

"No, I'll go down to my office. I just wanted to make sure he got checked in, I didn't know you'd be babysitting him."

"It's all part of the SBW treatment. I need to be able to prove to the Attorney General that he's gone through rehab. You may want to talk to him about his pain options. The doctor is suggesting surgery."

They both got onto the elevator, Wilson rode it down to the third floor and got off with Isibél. "Are you really going to make him pee in front of you?" he smiled.

She laughed, "Maybe not in front of me, but while I'm around."

Wilson shook his head, "He's been in a spiral down ever since his last go-around with his former girlfriend."

"I'm not following. I know that he lived with an attorney, but what do you mean?"

"She was here a few years ago with her husband, asking for House to treat him because no one knew what was wrong with him. It ended up in an affair, but when she agreed to leave her husband House balked. He told her that he wouldn't be able to make her happy. Since then it's been one drama with him after another. He misses her or he misses having someone like her. He dates, but I think he doesn't have any respect for someone who would date him."

Isibél chuckled. "Wow. He's more screwed up than I thought." She thought about it for a minute, "This rehab may not work, huh?"

Wilson shook his head and looked down.

'Don't look so forlorn, it frequently takes several trips to rehab before it works." Isibél was familiar with drug addiction and rehabilitation. The CIA took a toll on its agents and some turned to drugs to handle it or to keep them alert. Habits and addictions were formed. Many of her friends were sent to the Farm's own rehabilitation facility in the Virgin Islands.

"Unless he finds something or someone to fill the void, I don't think it will work. He loves his misery, it's the only thing he has left."

"Hmmm. That's sad. He's so brilliant."

"Too brilliant for his own good."

"I guess I'm going to be an overpaid babysitter." Isibél said.

"We can take turns. I plan to see this through with him."

She patted Wilson on the shoulder in acknowledgment of his sacrifice. "Well doctor, I have to get to work." She turned and went in the direction of her office. Wilson took the stairs down to his.


	8. Chapter 6

Please go to the next Chapter


	9. Chapter6 Part 2

When Isibél sat down at her desk, she had one thing on her mind. She had been wondering for the entire week what House's password was. She thought she knew so she Googled "Vicodin" and looked through the sites until one mentioned the chemical formula for it. She pulled the site up and saw not just the chemical formula but the identification numbers for it. The Anatomical Therapeutic Chemical Classification System or ACT for Vicodin was R05DA03 or ACTR05DA03, his password. Damn he's good. You have to admire him, he's so damn cool.

Isibél decided that she would check it out. With his password, it was extremely easy to hack into his email. She began to read it. There were emails from his Mom chastising him for not calling her back. Emails from doctors requesting or responding to his help. She was surprised to find that House tended to be free with advice on the web. It was as if, when he was bored, he tried to play doctor by remote.

There were email receipts for ITUNES , Rhapsody and several other minor dowload sites. Apparently, he liked to download jazz and rock. She found some Who, Clapton and Waite. There was a receipt from Ticketmaster for tickets to an upcoming film festival. Since there were two tickets, she wondered who he was going to take. There were receipts for a couple of porn sites and one from an escort service. Isibél noted the Escort service, Princeton Escorts, for further investigation. Doe he use prostitutes? I hope he uses condoms. There was only one email that concerned her. It was from a a Mohammad and it said, "We have a need for your services tonight. If you would like to work with us again, please contact me. I assume you still have my contact information.

She searched for other emails from Mohammad, but there were none. Isibél had a knot in her stomach. House was one of the names that kept surfacing in the Radiology department and now an email from Mohammad cryptically requesting his services. Isibél knew it was unlikely. A terrorist cell was unlikely to send emails, but it had been done before.

That evening Isibél wasn't allowed to see House because it was his first evening detoxing and they wanted to watch him, especially since the last time he was in rehab he had managed to bribe the orderly into giving him Vicodin. They indicated that she could see him in the morning.

When Isibél opened the door, she knew something was wrong. She stepped back into the hallway and pulled the gun she kept in her purse. She opened the door and came around the short hall wall with her gun locked and loaded. She almost pulled the trigger when she saw him move. It was Stanley Compton.

"Jesus Christ Stanley, what the f#ck are you doing breaking into my apartment?"

"I couldn't just stand out in the hall and blow my cover."

Her heart was pounding so fast, not because she was scared, which she wasn't, but because she almost shot her friend."

"What do you want?"

"I'm lonely."

"Liar. I know you've already banged one of the nurses. What do you need?"

"I need to know if you can get me the personnel file on Lisa Cuddy."

"What? You can't think that she is involved in this?"

"Her pass gets her into any area in the hospital without registering her number. I just think I need to check her out a little more."

"You have her social security number, that should do it."

"Are you going to do it or not?"

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Okay. Want a beer?"

"Great. Got Modelo Negro?"

"No, I buy Samuel Adams. I don't like beer, but a lot of friends don't mind Sam Adams. Want one?"

"Sure." He followed her into the kitchen. "Nice place, crappy furniture. When are you going to buy some new stuff? I remember this from ten years ago when we were dating."

"You call what we did dating? I'd call it the perpetual booty call."

"With you doing half the calling."

She giggled and handed him his beer. "Yeah, I guess so."

He wiggled his eyebrows, "We were pretty good at it. We had a good time until you met Pavel."

"Well,I didn't hear from him after he went back to Moscow. No one's heard from him since." She tried to feel Stanley out because he had all the Moscow connections and would probably know something.

He ignored her.

She continued to poke, "You know Petrosky hated him, never forgave him for giving me the Chinese information."

"That was so sweet. Everyone benefitted. I don't understand why they were unhappy." Stanley said as he chugged down his beer.

"Petrosky didn't want to share the plans with us." She grabbed a bottle of water and sat down at the breakfast bar. Stanley wasn't going to say anything tonight.

Stanley looked at her while she had her head turned. He remembered her breasts and the soft blonde hair that he used to nuzzle when they went to sleep. She was good in bed, one of his better conquests. He smiled, did anyone ever really conquer Isibél?

"Do you ever think of us?" he asked wistfully.

She swallowed her water quickly and got some down her windpipe. She started coughing. "(Cough, cough) No, not really, (cough, cough) not really. I (cough) do when you're ...around."

"You okay?"

She nodded her head.

"Are you thinking about us now?"

"You just asked me about us. Of course I'm thinking about it."

He smiled, "It was good. Hot."

"And?"

"I thought maybe we could take us out for a test drive again."

She smiled at him and shook her head, "Stanley, I think you rock. But, I can't go down that path again. Too much water under the bridge."

"Doesn't hurt to try." he said. "You're still upset because I called Pavel a Moscow Muffin."

"No, he was a muffin, my muffin. It's just that you have a case going on involving my employer. You don't want to put the investigation in jeopardy by sleeping with me."

He looked awkward. "I keep forgetting you're a civilian. Boy did Alex screw up his career. They all blame him for The Company losing you. He'll be lucky if they keep him. He's getting all the crap assignments. He wanted in on this one but Morell told him that you were here and they wanted to keep the two of you separated."

"That's sad." She shifted her weight and changed the subject, "How do you like the hospital?"

They talked for another hour and then he got up to leave, "Be careful with that gun!"

"You noticed I didn't blow your head off."

He laughed and left the apartment.

Isibél fell back into her couch and went all warm remembering the way Stanley could touch her just right and make her come in half the time it usually took with any other man, including Pavel and Alex. But still, there had never been an emotional connection like she made with Pavel and then Alex.

Pavel and Alex were so different. Pavel was passionate and committed, devoted and dedicated to her. He breathed her in and loved her. Alex was stoic and intellectual. He tried hard not to let passions govern him. When they did, it was wild. It was a dam bursting and love gushing. But almost as quickly as it gushed, it would dry up. She often wonder how she could love two such different men. If only she could find someone inbetween.

She put on her motorcycle gear, packed her suit and took off for the hospital. She walked in and saw House standing at one of the vending machines.

She rushed up to him, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I came down to give you a sample of my finest."

"I was coming up." She took a look at him. He was drenched in sweat. His nose was running and his eyes were watery. He kept rubbing his nose on his sleeve.

"You don't look so hot." she reached up and instinctively wiped his brow with her sleeve.

"Jesus, I'm detoxing. Are you happy now?"

"Oh hush, don't be a baby."

"A baby? My bones and muscles ache, I'm vomiting every five minutes, I have chills and then I sweat, I have perpetual goose bumps and I can't sleep."

"I was coming up to see you. You didn't have to come down. Do they know you're out of your cage?" She asked.

"No. I snuck out in a cart of laundry."

"Let's go Houdini."

They walked into the elevator, the smell of his insides sweating out into the the small contained area was overwhelming, "Oh my God. You need a shower."

As soon as they walked into the rehab, the staff started shaking their finger at House. Someone in authority came up and said menacingly, "You do it again and we're kicking you out."

I went to the locker area and changed from my motorcycle clothes into my suit. And flat pumps. I had started to my office when my cell phone rang. I felt a little guilty, there were signs that said they should not be operated within the hospital, but I knew from all the studies that cell phones don't really interfere with medical devices. I answered the phone.

"O'Rourke. Meet us at 1323 Pine Street." There was a click. I went back to the locker area and got back into my motorcycle gear and practically ran out the door. I took my portable GPS out of the backpack and plugged in the information. I took off and was at the address within half an hour. It was a white clapboard house with a small window that had curtains drawn over them. It must be a stand alone office, rented for the purpose of a point of operation.

I knocked and heard Stanley yell for me to come inside. I wondered where the camera was hidden. I walked in and found Stanley, Ditler, Ralph and Morrison, an operative who usually worked Europe. This couldn't be good if an operative had been called in on the case.

"What's up?"

"Raven's dead. He was shot last night, Mauser SP66. One shot, right to the temple."

I sat down on the wood kitchen chair and put my head in my hands. This could mean so many things. It could mean that the perpetrator knew we were onto him; that Raven was an accomplice and had done something to warrant a hit; that Raven was the perp and the buyer took him out and several other scenarios.

I couldn't hold back, my training took over, "Christ, we need to open the investigation up a little; start selective interviews and get subpoenas for Raven's house and patient files. Ralph what's going on with the logs? Are we wasting our time on them?

"I keep coming up with fourteen people who each logged in within two days of the big chunks being taken." He handed me the list, it included seven doctors, Dr. Raven, James Wilson, Eddie Gifford (another oncologist), Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman and Gregory House and five nurses or technicians. "House was in rehab last night. He was in no shape to be aiming a sniper rifle and actually hitting a target."

"He could be working with someone." Stanley suggested.

"Okay, we have to broaden out search to people who aren't normally at the hospital but come on a regular schedule, like vendors. Ralph, you're almost finished imputing the logs. I want you to start work on the vendors who were in the hospital around those dates."

" Isibél?" Ralph asked.

I looked up, "Yes?"

He said it in the sweetest possible voice, "You're a civilian. Ditler's in charge."

I must have looked horrifed, because they all started laughing at me. "I...I forgot. Sorry Ditler."

Ditler waved it off, "Forget about it. Isibél, I wanted your input or I wouldn't have asked you here. You're right, Ralph go ahead and broaden your search."

"Do we have counters?" I asked.

"Radioactive counters?" Stanley replied.

I nodded.

"They'll be here in the next few days. In the meantime, we just keep snooping in the dark."

"We need to sweep the fourteen residences. I can get into the doctors', except for Raven. You'll need to work with the locals on that." I said. Again, I had forgotten in less than a nanosecond that I wasn't part of The Company anymore.

Ditler thought about it. "I'll ask the Farm. We use civilians and ex-agents on occasions. I can't think of anyone better qualified."

I shook my head, trying to remember I was a civilian. You're so indoctrinated when you go into the CIA. I had been an operative and then, when an MI6 agent had blown my cover (idiot) I was transferred into the Political Analyst job, which I had been doing for eight years before I fell in love and quit (idiot).

Stanley looked directly into my eyes, "We just wanted you to know that the hit was professional, so be careful. We don't know what the perp knows at this point. He may just think that Raven spilled his guts to you and so now you're the next on his list."

"I understand."

At noon I went up to see House and get my sample. Wilson was talking to him in the visitors area. I had my sample jar in my hot little hand.

He saw me and said outloud so I could hear, "Crap here comes Lorena Bobbit, cover up."

"Hi Dr. Wilson, Dr. House." I sat down.

"Please call me Jim."

House smiled at me, "You can call me anything you want as long as you keep washing my genitals."

Wilson's brow furred and he looked puzzled, "What?"

"Lorena here likes to give Marine baths to men. If you play your cards right, she might come and give _you_ a "top and tail.""

I rolled my eyes, "Dr. House was passed out in the shower this morning and I simply woke him up."

"Not before soaping me up and giving me a very pleasant and stimulatingwash job."

I looked furtively at Wilson, "He stank! He'd been vomiting all over himself." I clenched my jaw and looked at House and shoved the sample jar in his chest, "Pee for me."

Wilson started sniggering, trying to keep from laughing outloud.

"Christ, come on, let's go. I know you want to watch." He said to me.

"Jim can supervise this time. I've had enough of your private parts today."

He stuck his face a few inches from mine, "You know, I took a buttload of Vicodin yesterday before I checked in, it won't be completely out of my system."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Could have fooled me." He took his cane, got up and started to hobble, much more noticeably to the bathroom."

He was obviously feeling the leg more. The nerve block was wearing off and so was the Vicodin. I waited and the two of them eventually came back with a sample of nice clear, yellow pee. I looked at Wilson, "He didn't get you to pee for him did he?"

Wilson laughed again, "It was tempting, but I kept my pee to myself."

I smiled and turned back to House, "How are you feeling?"

He gave me a look of frustration and practically yelled, "I'm going through detox, the nerve block is wearing off and the Vicodin is practically gone, how the hell do you think I'm doing?"

I felt rightfully chastised, "I meant, how do you feel since this morning?"

"They finally gave me some medicine for the vomiting and Suboxone for the cravings."

"So, a little bit better?" I suggested.

"If it makes you feel better, yeah."

"Are you hungry?" I knew I was.

"Not really, not yet." he said.

"Well, I was going to bring you back something if you needed it. I'm hungry and since Jim is here to keep you occupied, I"m going to go get something to eat."

I patted his knee and he looked at my hand like I was an imbecile. I withdrew it quickly. He was so prickly! I couldn't imagine him being with a woman unless it was for sex.

"I'm done here too, he has group in a few minutes. I'll come with you and eat something too." Jim said.

We left him talking to a nurse and went to the cafeteria. "He's an odd duck isn't he?"

Jim smiled, "You go in for understatements don't you?"

"He lived with a woman for quite awhile, didn't he?"

"Five years."

"Did he show her any affection?"

"House is a romantic at heart. When he's in love he buys flowers, makes up cheesy poems, shows affection. Think of a seventeen year old boy in a forty-eight year old body and you've got House's mentality."

"With his brains? That's a very scary proposition."

"Be careful, more women fall for him than you would expect."

"It's the blue eyes, once you get past the blue eyes, he's built like all the rest, except not circumcised." I smiled wickedly at him.

"You would know I guess. You're very used to being in charge, aren't you?"

I went quiet. I was used to being in charge and changing into a civilian life was difficult. I knew I sounded more like Hitler than a Well-Being attorney. I looked at Wilson, "So what happens after detox?"

He'll go into the outpatient program next week."

"_What?_" I wasn't sure I heard it right.

"He'll go home on Monday and start daily outpatient treatment. He'll work part time and go to therapy part time for another two weeks and then he'll just go to therapy each week after that until they release him from the program."

"Back up. _He goes home on Monday?_ I just saw his locker, he had six bottles of Vicodin in there. I can't imagine what he has at home! He can't go home yet. Even if we go clean out his apartment, I doubt we'll find all of his stash. He'll have to go home with you for the first week." I know my voice was elevated.

Wilson shrugged, "I just rented an apartment, but it's not available until next month. I'm still living in a hotel."

"Still?"

"I moved in with House after my divorce, but to make a long story short, it was easier for me to move into a motel."

"Crap, what about Cuddy? Or one of his team? Can't they take him?" I asked.

"I don't think you'll get any volunteers."

"_I can't take him_."

Jim was serious, "I hate to point this out, but you're the one that pushed him into rehab. It's only for a week. He shouldn't be on his own, especially sine he's a doctor with a prescription pad."

"Ugh. I'll call Cuddy and beg." I did just that. "Lisa, we've just hit a road block."

"Oh Christ the thief is a doctor." she blurted out, her voice dripping with worry and anger.

"No, I'm calling about House. He gets out of rehab on Monday, but we can't let him go to his apartment. We suspect he has a cache of Vicodin hidden there. I want to know if you'll take him in for a few weeks until he's been in counseling for awhile."

"I can't. Not only am I so stressed out over what's happened, but I have relatives from Israel coming in next week for vacation. They'll be here two weeks. Why don't you ask Wilson?"

"He's living in a motel."

"So?"

"I think that's a little too close quarters– one room."

"I'm sorry, but he'll just have to go back to his apartment."

I knew that wasn't an option. I started to feel out of control and that's not a comfortable place for me to be. I had to make this work, I had to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, I knew what that meant. I could easily find the drugs, that's what operatives do– reconnaissance, assess and inform. But, someone had to be there where he was alone to fill in the gaps. My head was swimming. I hardly knew the guy and I could already see what was going to happen. I was going to get a House guest.


	10. Chapter 6 part 3

I went to sleep a little early on Friday because I was feeling like I had a virus. I had a hard time waking up on Saturday morning, I was still feeling out of sorts. But I thought I owed it to House to check in on him and show him some support. I went up to see him, and wasn't surprised to find him in the middle of a shouting match with a woman.

"I'd dump you too if you started telling me to give up booze. Christ the only way the guy could stomach getting into bed with you was a good stiff whisky. Could you blame him? Look at you, chubby and boring. If you're going to be chubby, at least be interesting." He saw me, "Now, talk about boring– here's skinny and boring. You two could be the opposite ends of a pendulum." He looked back at the woman, "You're what, 29 and still single? Well, your counterpart here, skinny and boring, is in her thirties and single."

"I'm not boring, I have morals." The woman yelled back.

"Spare me your morals." He pointed to me, "That's what being pampered and conservative will do to you. It makes you a single, boring human that no one wants to be around."

I swallowed hard, hurt that he would be so cruel to me on purpose. I rarely hated anyone, it just wasn't in my nature. There were people I chose to not spend time with because we had nothing in common, but there were few that I hated. I felt myself starting to really dislike Gregory House. But he was important to my new career. If I could get him squared away with the medical board, Cuddy would keep me forever.

"She's pretty, I bet she's got a boyfriend. Don't you?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I just broke off my engagement."

House laughed, "Ten bucks it wasn't her who broke it off."

"Well, you'll never know will you?" I said slipping into the voice of a five year old.

I turned and started to walk out so that I could compose myself, but I felt a hand on my elbow swing me around, "What did you want?" House asked.

"I wanted to tell you that you'll be living with me your first few weeks out of rehab."

"I have an apartment."

"That's filled with Vicodin, right?"

He didn't bother to answer. He knew I was right and he was pissed. I looked at him and saw that he was wearing the t-shirt I had cleaned and brought back to him yesterady. It was a nice cool blue and it looked gorgeous with those eyes of his.

I held my hand out, "I need the key to your apartment so I can get you some clothes and other items for your stay. Is there anything you want me to get from your apartment for you?"

He thought about what I had said and I could see resignation register in his face. He was resigned to the fact that he couldn't go home or he'd relapse, "My guitar. The acoustic hanging up behind the piano." He looked away, "Wilson has a key, get it from him."

I nodded. I cleared my throat in the hopes I could gain back my "adult voice." "How are you doing?"

He nodded for me to sit down which threw me for a loop. I had expected a one word answer and a quick good bye. I sat down and he looked around, waiting for me to entertain him.

"Dr. House, you said I was boring and you're right. I've done very little in my life outside of law school and poitical analysis. I don't know what you want me to do or say."

He looked frustrated with me. "Look, if I don't have a visitor, I have to go back in there, in group and it's boring me to tears. Everyone is trying to blame their parents. I started telling everyone to grow up and take responsibility, but they apparently don't think that's the answer. Don't you have any conversation skills other than talking about rehab or work?"

I thought about the hours I had spent entertaining men as an operative. I had entertained them in Russian, Italian, Spanish and other languages. I had made love to them; I had saved some; I had betrayed some, and I had even ensured some of their deaths. I wondered if he would be entertained by my life, if I had the license to tell him about it.

"You play guitar and piano?" I asked.

"Yes. Do you?"

"I played violin and mandolin. My fiancé played piano." Actually both Pavel and Alex had played piano, very well. I wasn't sure who was better. Alex was technically the better player, but Pavel was so much more passionate that I liked listening to him more.

House looked a me, "Did you hear about Raven? I heard his wife's boyfriend took him out."

I almost laughed, it was one of the CIA's favorite cover stories. But they only used it if the wife had been cheating, otherwise they used a different story. "I didn't know about the wife, did you?"

"Yeah, I knew about her. This fiancé of yours, is he still in Washington?"

"My ex-fiancé lives just outside the beltway."

"Why did he break up with you?"

I laughed because he was assuming that Alex broke if off in the hopes I would admit it. "We called it off mutually when our careers seemed to be going in different directions."

"I see, you got fired for something horrible, maybe you bored your employer to death and no one in Washington will hire you again. The fiancé doesn't want to leave Washington and so you guys were at a stalemate." He looked bored and uninterested sitting back on the sofa and practically laying back.

"You pretty much summed it up. What about Stacey, how do you feel about her authorizing the surgery?"

His face went blank and then turned somewhat ugly and dark. He jumped up and looked at me, "Like I said, you're boring."

I was left sitting by myself. I guess group was more interesting than answering my questions. After recovering and finding myself very alone, I walked out. I kept shaking my head and wondering if I should ask Jim for some Buspar to get through the next few weeks with Gregory House.

I didn't go see him on Sunday. Instead I received a visit from Ralph who brought me one of the Geiger counters. I drove over and got the key to House's apartment from Wilson and went to vet the apartment of drugs. I drove up and saw that there was a plaque on the outside door stating that the apartment was in a historical building. I walked into the entryway and opened the door. The apartment was exactly as I pictured it. It wasn't dirty, but it was a little messy. His piano was well played and there were musical instruments all over. I decided that I had to attack my mission systematically, so I decided to work from the bedroom out.

I walked down the hall, into his bedroom and looked around. There was a wardrobe, a bed, a night stand a stool and lamps everywhere. The man had a lamp fetish. I sat on his bed. _Firm_. I checked out his gray sheets. They were probably 250's, nothing to write home about. He had a brown blanket that had migrated to the bottom of the bed for the summer season. There was a framed silhouette hanging on the wall that looked like a red evil Mickey Mouse. I didn't like it. The furniture was nice but too big for the room. I started on the window, moldings and base boards to look for anything loose enough to stash pills or bottles of pills. I checked the bed thoroughly. When I pulled the pillow up to look inside the case I could smell House. It was very masculine, but there was a hint of some kind of herb. I couldn't quite make it out. I found a bottle of pills under the pillow next to him and one in the night stand under a very large stack of porn magazines. I noticed several packages of condoms and a card that said, "Princeton Escorts." On the back was written, "Paula, Jackie, Cora." I checked the wardrobe and found a half dozen bottles of Vicodin in various trouser pockets and suit jackets. There was a bottle stashed in the toe of a motorcyle boot. I checked the floor boards to see if any were loose, but they weren't.

I went through his bathroom and discovered that the shampoo was the reason his pillow smelled of herbs. It was a nice, fresh smell. I found some Vicodin in bottles marked as vitamins sitting right next to the laxatives. I checked and found bottles of vicodin stuck inside the rolls of the stacked toilet paper inside the bathroom linen closet. I went out to the kitchen and had to spend several hours going through the cabinets. I only found one bottle in the kitchen.

I started on his hall closet and immediately knew it didn't feel right. House had a pattern to his crap, it was orgainized in a way that made sense, maybe messy, but it made sense. He was lazy so things he used were readily available. But the deep closet had golf clubs up front and the canes in the back. There were boxes of photographs closer to the front also. Most people store their photographs in the back and only pull them out on occasion. It just didn't seem logical.

I backed out of the closet and thought about it. I grabbed his guitar and a bag of clothes and put them in the trunk of my car. Then I grabbed my duffle bag out of my car and brought it inside. I pulled out a finger print kit and printed the closet door. The only prints on it were mine. That was strange. The door should at least have House's fingerprints.

Crap. Has Stanley been in here? I told him I'd check it out. Check it out for...this isn't Stanley. Stanley wouldn't be this sloppy. If Stanley had been here, I wouldn't know.

I went back out to the car and got the Geiger counter. I opened the door to his apartment and, with the exception of the electrical appliances I didn't get a reading, that is, until I got to the closet. I opened the door and the counter started to climb. I pushed a little further inside and it climbed to just inside the red. I pulled back and closed the door. I was scared and I hate being scared.

What does this mean? He has a substance in his closet that is putting out high grays of radiation. It doesn't make sense.

I called Morell. An hour later, there were guys with hazmat suits crawling though House's closet. It turned out to be a tiny lead vial that had just a thin, picocurie film of Cesium 137 on the lid, as if there had been more inside but it had been poured into another container. The amount was enough to trigger a reaction by the Geiger counter, but not really enough to be harmful to people in the building. Still, it was enough to trigger a hazmat team to come in and do clean up in the closet. Strangely, the vial looked like it was suppose to be haphazardly left in the closet, but no other item in the closet had Cesium 137 on it, just the vial.

It was placed in that closet with the utmost care by someone who didn't want it to do real harm to House or others, but to trigger a response. Someone is playing us.

We were standing outside House's apartment, telling the occupants of the building and passerbys that there had been a gas leak. "Bill, this doesn't feel right. Greg House? I was going through his apartment while he's in rehab and the closet was all wrong. No fingerprints but mine. House's don't start until about eight inches away from the jamb of the door. Look, he's crippled in one leg, he can't play golf or La Cross, but those items were up front and the canes, which he does use, are in the back. Someone's been in and either forgot the order to his closet or was in a hurry. They staged the Cesium, but not the rest of the closet."

Bill was shaking his head, he wasn't convinced. "Isi, he's a drug addict."

"Yes and no. He likes Vicodin and, okay, I found a little pot, but he can get the Vicodin anytime he wants. He has a medical license to write prescriptions and insurance to pay for it. He needs it for the pain in his leg. He's not a typical junkie."

"Well, we'll do a run of his finances. But in the meantime, Stanley, Ditler, how do you want to handle this?" The guys looked at me and there was a pause. Morell was pissed, "Don't look at O'Rourke, she's a civilian."

"With all due respect Bill, she's been ahead of the game and knows the players. I think we need to at least consider what she has to say."

Bill shrugged and turned to me. I looked to Bill for the okay and he nodded. "Don't let House know, let me work on him to see what I can come up with. In the meantime, do a thorough background analysis. Assume that someone is setting House up. That means that we have to have a two prong approach. We assume he is the thief or in cahoots with the thief. On the other hand we assume he's being set up and find who has been doing it."

Bill thought about it and looked around, sighed and then looked back at me, "I hope you know what you're doing. Okay, go for it, but first _you_ need a dose of Prussian Blue."

"Ugh." I arrived back at my apartment and saw a dark sedan parked down the block. I knew I had company. As soon as I pulled up they got out of the car with their bag. Within minutes I was receiving Prussian Blue which binds to Cesium 137 and changes it to an inert form of Cesium, insuring that any harm from my exposure would be minimized. I had to give the team my clothes, which were bagged and sent to our lab for analysis.

I still wasn't feeling my best, like I had a low-grade fever. It didn't help that I found myself somewhat depressed. I was suppose to get House to take me into his confidence. That was going to be a tough job, especially when he would be staying with me as an unwilling rehab prisoner. House would not be easy to seduce emotionally. If I played it too fast, he'd suspect. I went home and stayed awake thinking all night about my new assignment.


	11. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7 **

**TOO MUCH HOUSE TO CLEAN**

I drove into PPTH in my car and went up to the rehab center. Sitting in the waiting area was Drs. House, Wilson and Cuddy. I smiled at them. Wilson and Cuddy gave me warm smiles back. Dr. House watched me, his eyes sharp and stern. There was no smile from him.

I looked at those blue, cold, eyes and said, "Are you ready to go home?"

"No. I have a patient. I think I'll just go home to my apartment when I'm done with her."

"We have a deal. Until we can get you past your cravings, the temptations of the Vicodin stashed in your apartment will be too much. You have to go home with me. Besides while I was at your apartment, I smelled gas and I called the gas company out. They evacuated the entire building and told everyone they wouldn't be allowed back in until tomorrow."

Jim stood up, "She's right House, you can't go back to the apartment without slipping back into old habits. You need to go home with Isibél."

Cuddy said with a tone of authority, "I agree. You either go with her or I tell the Medical Board that you aren't taking rehab seriously."

House laughed at Cuddy. He obviously didn't think her threat was credible. There must be a history if he thought Cuddy was just blowing smoke.

"I'm serious House. If you won't take rehab serious, then we'll take it serious for you." she stood firm.

"You guys sound like a script from _Days of Our Lives_. Alright. Let me work on my patient and then I'll let the librarian take me home." He stood up and bent down in my face, "But I warn you, I like my women on top and you have to scream my name when you come."

"Oh, is your name Jesus?" I asked with a half-serious look.

He looked at me sideways and gave me a brief smile. Then he got up and went down to his office. I went off and did some work and met briefly with all of the agents to let them know that House would be staying with me. There was a lot of snickering, but most of the clandestine operatives weren't envying me. They knew House was going to be a hard onion to peel. By now, each of them had read the file I had compiled on him and were familiar with the genius known as Gregory House.

I gave House directions to my apartment and a key to get in. I arrived home a few minutes before him. He didn't knock, just threw the door open, looked around and crashed onto the sofa in front of the television. I looked at him and the bottle of pills he handed to me. "I need some water to go with those."

I went into the kitchen and he followed. He then disappeared again as I got the ice for his water. "Where are you going?" I yelled down the hall.

"Just checking out my bed."

I ran down the hall to the bedroom. He was laying with his shoes on in the middle of my $500 Italian duvet cover and pillows I had purchased from Restoration Hardware. "Get your damn feet off my duvet you idiot!"

He didn't move. "This bed smells fresh and clean and soft. Why is that women need so many pillows. I mean, I only need one under the hips to get the best angle, after that they're a waste."

I bit my tongue, "Here's your water." I handed it at his bottle of pills to him. He took one out, took the pill and drank the water. He put the water on the wood night stand. I grabbed it before it could put a ring on the top. "I didn't notice any rings on your wood, you must know how to use a coaster."

"There wasn't one."

"Just ask." I took the water out to the kitchen and then went back into the living room, but he didn't come out. I waited at least fifteen minutes but he wasn't joining me. I went back to the bedroom and he was completely surrounded by pillows and fast asleep. I took his shoes off and I'm sure it woke him up, but he gave a pretty convincing appearance of someone that was still asleep.

It was late afternoon and I was watching Oprah when my front door burst open. I realized that House hadn't locked it like I usually do. I was getting sloppy. I jumped and made a beeline for my gun when I heard a familiar voice, "Hey I brought you something down from the Farm."

My stomach turned, it was Alex. He stood there with that cat-like smile and steel gray hair, perfectly coiffed and ready for any hurricane out there. He started to walk towards me when he looked over my shoulder and his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. I turned and there was House in nothing but his boxers with my small vibrator shaped like a phallus. I closed my eyes, hoping I could make this image go away.

He looked at me with a smile? "Hey, what's this. It sure vibrates when you turn on this button. What is it ,a Sharper Image massager?" He put it up on his shoulder next to his neck, "Oh yeah, I can feel the tension melting away. Why don't you show me where you use it to release the tension." He stopped and grinned widely.

Alex just stared and I ran over and grabbed it out of his hand. I ran back to the bedroom, put it a lower drawer instead of my night stand. Then I went back out to the living room where House was now sitting, sprawled in the easy chair like he owned the living room.

Alex handed me the files he had brought me. He nodded at House and then looked at me with a puzzled look.

"Alex Gimble, this is Dr. Gregory House." As soon as I said his name, Alex registered recognition and some understanding.

"I'm glad to meet you Dr. House. I understand you're staying with Isibél for awhile." He went over and put out his hand. House paused, looked at it, looked at me and then shook it slowly.

"Farm? What farm?"

I went numb and so did Alex. We both froze. Alex regained his composure and asked, "Farm, what farm?"

"You said you brought her something down from the farm?"

Alex hit his head with the palm of his hand, "Oh! Isibél and I often stop at a roadside farm outside of Washington to pick up fruit and vegetables. I have some fruit for her in the car, but I forgot to bring it in."

House nodded.

I put the files in the kitchen above the pantry until I could secret them to a more secure location. Alex started a benign conversation with House about Princeton and I joined them. When House was in the restroom Alex quickly told me that my clothing and the remaining items in House's closet showed extremely low exposure to Cesium-137,well within the safe range. I was relieved.

When House came out of the bathroom, Alex turned to me, "Isibél, I have to go. I just wanted to drop in and see you." He pecked me on the cheek and I almost cried. Just a few months ago we would have grabbed each other up and would have been lucky if we made it all the way to the bedroom. I know my eyes must have registered the pain because he patted my shoulder as he left.

I watched him go and briefly closed my eyes and swallowed hard to gain my composure. I turned and looked at House, "Feel better? Are you hungry?"

"He still forgot."

"What?" I was puzzled.

"To give you the fruit from the farm."

"Oh! I think seeing you must have thrown him."

House's voice became inquisitive, "Is he the ex-fiancé?" He leaned forward in anticipation of a response.

"Uh-huh. Now, are you hungry?"

"No wonder you needed a dildo. You wouldn't need one if you climbed Mount Gregory." He smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind." I started back into the kitchen, "Are you hungry Gregory?"

"Just a little, I still don't have all of my appetite back yet."

I pulled a frozen entree out of the freezer. "Sorry this isn't fresh; I haven't been able to do any real grocery shopping. But I like these because they taste pretty good for stuffed chicken with risotto." I heated two of them in the oven while I cooked some vegetables. I put the plate down in front of him on the dining table which just fit in the little area off the kitchen. "Something to drink?"

"Beer?"

I tilted my head in amazement, "Are you allowed alcohol?"

"I abuse Vicodin, not beer."

"I keep some around for guests, so I only have Samuel Adams. Okay?"

He wrinkled his nose up, "I guess."

I handed him the beer and grabbed a Diet Coke Plus out of the refrigerator. He looked at my can.

"What's this "Plus" crap. "Plus" acidic stomach? Plus cancer? Plus no taste?"

"Plus vitamins and minerals. It has vitamins added. I get no calories and I get vitamins and minerals in my diet coke."

He laughed at me. "Try eating fruit and vegetables."

"You're one to talk." I knew from his profile that he liked his junk food. "Dr. House, I brought your guitar over. It's in my closet."

"Thanks. You better call me Greg, it's going to sound too weird when you come for you to yell, "Dr. House, Dr. House!" Your neighbors will think you need a doctor." he paused looked up and said, "I guess you do need a doctor, Doctor Feelgood."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, "What exactly do you do at the hospital?"

"I heal the sick."

"Funny. Ha. I don't understand, a whole department called Diagnostics. Aren't all doctors diagnosticians?"

"No. Most of them couldn't diagnose a head cold. But, to answer your question, I diagnose the ones that no one seems to know what's wrong with. I'm their last resort before they die or spend their lives chronically afflicted."

"That must be rewarding."

"Oh, how Californish. It's just fun solving puzzles. I'm the master at figuring things out."

"Well, maybe you can figure out where you're going to sleep, because it's not in my bed."

"There's room enough for two and my huge morning woody in that bed."

"Yes, well there will be even more room for it on the sofa bed. That way I won't get in your way when you want to turn over and relieve yourself."

He ate a bite of food in response. "What shall we do tonight?" He looked up and put his finger to the side of his mouth, "Let's see. What would I do if I was boring?" He looked at me up and down, "I'd do some homework, you must have brought some work home, right? Then I'd sit down and watch the news...not just any news, but the BBC World News and CNN to get a balanced view. After that I'd either read a book on the fall of the USSR or I'd watch a Discovery documentary on the Iraqi shortage of electricity. Then I'd go to bed, diddle myself with my mini-dildo and go to sleep."

I know nothing registered on my face, but I really wanted to run screaming from the kitchen. _How does he know me so well? Crap!! Has my life become so rote that this jerk can read me like a book? I was never boring, never. I was wild, alive, industrious, bold, brave, exotic, sensual... Who am I kidding? I haven't been that in years, not since my cover was blown._

"Gee, enough speculation about my life, let me see if I have you down. You usually stop on the way home to pick up dinner since you don't cook. If you get home without dinner, you'll order in. At the very most, you'll make yourself a PBJ. You sit in front of the television almost all night watching wrestling, monster truck, stock car racing or sometimes, Jeopardy. If you're broody you play an instrument, preferably the piano. One day a week you play poker and you're good at it because you can keep your emotions, if you have any, to yourself. You dress like that because you want to tell Cuddy and the Board to go screw themselves. You ride the motorcycle because it's the one sporty thing you can do with your leg. And, rather than work out to strengthen your thigh muscle, you'd take Vicodin. Not because you're lazy, but because it makes you more of a damaged and wounded animal, which you prefer to being healthy. But most nights, it's just you and a whisky and eventually you end up snoring on the couch until a snort wakes you up and you go to bed. When you need sex and you don't just want a hand, you hire a prostitute. You don't have to show or express emotion with them. They're just a warm port in the storm. Mount Gregory in all its glory hasn't been getting a lot of climbers, except for those that you have to pay."

He smiled, "Hmm, you should be a detective except for one little detail. Mount Gregory has a regular climber now and then."

I laughed, he said it with so much self-satisfaction that he was cute. "I think both of us may have hit too close to the truth. I didn't use to be so boring, but life gets in the way."

"Boo-hoo. That's no excuse."

"Look who's talking, your leg is no excuse for not going out and having a life."

He sat back and his shoulders sank in abject boredom, "Gee and I haven't heard that one before. Thanks Mom."

I cleared the table and turned back to look at him. He was sitting at the table in just his boxers drinking his beer and staring at me.

"Want to play strip poker?" he asked.

"You must not have any faith in my abilities if you're willing to play strip poker in just your shorts."

"Well, let's face it, you can be emotional. You'd make a lousy spy, but a great hysteric."

"Okay, I'll play, but for every time I win, you put clothes on. When we reach equilibrium, I've won. If I end up naked, you've won."

"Equilibrium?"

"The same number of clothing articles. Plus each chip is worth fifty cents."

"Fifty cents? Why don't we say $10. That sounds fair."

I put my hand on my hip and shook my head, "Fifty cents."

He shrugged his shoulders and I went to find the cards. I grabbed the set that was given to me at the Regency Club in England, handed him some poker chips and started to shuffle the cards. He agreed I could deal first. I ended up dealing myself a pair of tens. After the first round of betting, I drew three cards. I thought that he probably had a pair because he drew three too.

He watched my face, but when I want to, I have the perfect poker face. I look pleasant, but there is no discreet movement that tips the other person off. House was good to. He told me odd facts as we sat there.

"Did you know that a shrimp's heart is in its head?" he said.

I just looked pleasantly at him, "I bet two and raise you one."

He threw in one and raised me two, "A duck's quack doesn't echo and they don't know why."

I looked at him as we went another round of raising each other. I had three tens.

He called me.

Before I laid down my hand I said, "In England, all swans and sturgeons belong to the Queen." I put the three tens on the table.

He looked down and then up at me, he put his hand down, he had three eights. "Well what do you want me to put on?"

"A shirt would do." I said.

He went and grabbed a t-shirt and put it on. He shuffled the cards and we went around again. After drawing my cards, I folded. I didn't even have a pair.

As I folded, he started picking the cards up, "A male moth can smell a female from up to seven miles away."

I cracked up. He did too. I took off my shoe and put it on the table.

"For God's sake, get your shoes off of the furniture!" He yelled. "And get me another beer."

I pulled the beer from the refrigerator, "Did you know that Thomas Edison was afraid of the dark?"

I shuffled and dealt the cards. I lost again. This time he told me, "If ribbon worms can't find food, they'll eat themselves." when I gave him another shoe.

Before he had to put on a sock I told him, "Statisticians have calculated that the odds run 70 to one that you won't marry any of the boys in the office where you work. About 100 to one you won't marry your boss, and 1700 to one that you won't marry your doctor."

"Thank God." He said.

It went on for hours. We told each other odd facts, jokes and strange stories that we had heard or experienced. I ended up sitting in my bra, panties and t-shirt. House was in his shorts, t-shirt and two socks (since he started with boxers, he claimed I couldn't use them to reach equilibrium. When we had reached equilibrium I did a little victory dance. I made more money too. I ended up with him owing me $4.50. I have to admit we had a good time. It was midnight and I made him help me make up the sofa bed for him.

He said rather begrudgingly, "You're a pretty good poker player. Where'd you learn to play?

"Oh, I've spent many a night waiting for things to happen with men who's lives depended on having a poker face. They taught me."

"What do you mean by that?"

I wanted to tell him about the spies I had worked with and against. How we would get together discreetly sometimes and play cards, learning how to hide our emotions and having a great time. But of course I couldn't tell him that. So I told him another truth that I could tell him, "In politics, not showing your hand is important. We'd all wait for bills to come up in the senate for a vote and play cards while we waited." This was all true, but politicians are often the worst poker players and have a hard time keeping anything hidden.

We went to bed and in the morning I came out and he was sprawled completely across the bed looking like DaVinci's Vitruvian Man. He was right, he had a nice woody sticking boldly up under the sheet. I wondered what Mount Gregory would be like. If I was going to be successful in winning his trust, I might just have to climb it. _Oh well, we'll mount that obstacle when we come to it._


	12. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

**HOUSE and GUEST**

During the next week Isibél continued to look for clues as to whether House had anything to do with what had happened in Radiology. When he went to the movies with Wilson on the weekend, she went back to his office and went through it again. The only thing she took was his business address book. She went to her office and photocopied it and put it back.

House had behaved and was working with Bordeaux on pain relief. He was working out, which had the effect of making the pain worst at first. Isibél was reluctant to give House a massage again, but when she saw how much pain he was in she relented.

As she finished the massage. He smiled up at her and said, "This is my favorite part."

"The head massage?" she asked as she looked down into his upside down face.

"No, the heavy petting, copping the feel and the hand job."

She burst out laughing. "That was a moment of weakness Greg. We've been getting along so well, let's not start up the sexual tension again."

"Start up? What do you think I'm thinking every time you bend over to get something out of the refrigerator? "Gee, I hope the tuna salad hasn't gone bad?""

"Yeah, something like that." She laughed again.

"Hey, you can't leave a guy in the lurch, thinking he's going to get some and then he doesn't. I won't be able to relax. You wouldn't want that. Would you?"

"That's why you have Rosie Palm and her five sisters."

"I'd rather have your Rosie Fist and her five manhandlers."

Isibél thought about it and knew she had to step the game up a notch. He wasn't giving her what she wanted yet and maybe the physical contact would bring some of the emotions closer to the surface.

She said no, but when she went to remove the microwave heating pad from his thigh he pulled her arm as before and she let him. This time she let him go up the back and unlatch her bra. The fact that she let him do this made him extremely hard. She could feel him poking into her thigh as his tongue played with hers. He brought his hand around to her breast and said, "Oh man."

She snickered a little and reached down to touch him. Just the brief, feather touch set him off. He had been dreaming all week of the last time she had done this. His fantasy had been so real and so strong that the real thing was too much for him to take. He wanted to hold back but couldn't. Her fingertips started a cascade of sensations throughout his body that he couldn't control. He pulled her into his body and began to thrust into her leg until he was done and her pants dripped with semen.

He was disappointed, "Jesus Christ, look what you've done to me. I've been waiting for this all week."

She hadn't expected this at all. It wasn't as if it hadn't happened before with other men, but she hadn't expected him to be so angry with himself.

She laughed, "Me? Seems to me that you're the one who let himself get carried away. You've got an active imagination."

"You owe me a hand job." He said quite seriously.

"I _what_?"

"It's not fair. You didn't have to do anything, so I should at least get a raincheck."

She started laughing again, "I let you feel my breasts. I can't help it if that's enough to make you have a little accident."

"Raincheck."

"In your dreams...oh wait, it has been in your dreams. I know, in your dream I give you permission to go all the way. Now you don't need that raincheck. You can go dream it."

She got up and looked down at her pants, "I feel like Monica Lewinsky. Does semen come out?"

He was annoyed, "Yes, it comes out of sheets, boxers, washcloths...trust me I know."

She thought this was a good sign. He wanted more, maybe it was just more sex, but he wanted more and soon he'd be willing to share things with her to get it. It was a shame, it might have been nice to just get to know him without the need to get something from him. Sometimes she didn't like what her country expected of her.

"I'm so glad to know that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed." she turned to go down the hall.

"Just rub it in. When am I going to get to enjoy sleeping in that bed again?"

"Marry me?" She said as her answer, without a shred of laughter.

"Sure. Does Saturday work with your schedule?"

"Friday fits better." She giggled, "Goodnight."

He thought about what had just happened. He had hoped they would go all the way as he had in his daily fantasy. Living around her had been oddly stimulating. Her boring routines, her three minute flossing followed by two minutes of brushing her teeth was boring. Her morning check of her motorcycle, like an airplane pilot marking off the condition of the plane before it was flown, was a yawn. Even the way she made tea drove him nuts. She'd heat the water, pour a little into the tea kettle, swirl it around, dump it down the sink, put in the tea bag and pour the hot water over it. The tea cosy thing would go over the kettle and she would set the microwave timer for four minutes. Could anything be more boring?

She was pretty. He had to admit that she was pretty. He'd wait for her to take her showers and then go in with some excuse to be in the bathroom like a live-in voyeur. He just wanted a look at the outline of her naked body through the opaque doors. One day her bedroom door was opened just a crack and he got to see her naked from behind. Although he had seen better, her figure was impressive for a woman who was 38 years old. More importantly, it fueled his fantasy like gasoline on a fire.

He wondered when Lilly was going to be down again. He needed a release to all of this and Lilly's sweet, young body was definitely a release. He tried to think of Lilly, the smell her perfume, Joy, the flimsy lace panties and those large, obviously silicone, breasts. He hoped she would call soon. He wasn't sure if he was ever going to end up in that big, firm and feathered bed of Isibél's.

The investigation was in full swing and a lot had been uncovered about Radiology but nothing fit together well. On a Friday morning, three weeks into the investigation, Isibél stopped by the off-site office The Farm had rented to see if anything new had been discovered.

Stanley was eating a donut when Isibél showed up. "Stanley, any luck?" she asked.

"Not yet. What about you? Isibél, you need to deliver the goods on House in the next few days. Morell is itching to get his hands on him if you don't."

"Tell Morell that if he pulls House in, House won't keep his mouth shut. House could care less about National Security if revealing the investigation will aggravate someone important, he'll do it. You pull House in and you've lost all secrecy, you might as well go to the media. You need to tell Morell that I need time. Have any more Curie gone missing?"

"No."

"What about Raven's funeral?"

"Nothing, all attended by family, friends and colleagues."

"Any anomalies in his finances?"

"Just one, about three months before he died he deposited $20,000. We're not sure though what it was for. This is a difficult investigation because we don't know if PPTH is connected to the other missing Cesium in Boston. In addition, because we want to catch the perp and follow his trail, we can't bring in anyone and interrogate them yet. It's a mess. I think whoever is doing this is an amateur and because of that, we're being thrown off the trail. We keep expecting them to behave in ways a pro would and they haven't. There's money all over the place, there's no attempt to hide the missing Curie by replacing it with something else. It's just strange."

She could see the dilemma. "Hand me one of those donuts. You know, House is bright enough that he wouldn't leave a trail. He'd act like a pro. I still don't think it's him. Anything off the surveillance tapes?"

"We've been reviewing the last three years of the digital recording of the corridor outside of Radiology and no luck yet. Beth has been assigned the daunting task of going through it. She's had to meet with Dr. Cuddy on several occasions to figure out who some of the people in lab coats were in the recordings. It's a long painful process considering the recordings covered 24/7 for the last four years." He handed her a maple bar, one of her favorites. "You know, Ralph pulled House's deposits in his bank account over the last three years and there was no doubt that within two weeks of when some of the Cesium disappeared, there were large deposits ranging from $5,000 to $25,000. He was the only one that had a record of money being moved during those points in time."

"Trust me, it's not House."

"Do you have a thing for this guy?"

She laughed at him, "You must be joking? He's a psychological disaster."

Stanley opened his eyes wide and grinned, "Sounds like just the kind of guy you fall for..."

She rolled her eyes, "You could only aspire to the psychological problems that House has. He's so brilliant that he has little in common with the average and mundane. Yet he takes comfort in his daily routines and rarely goes anywhere unless it is associated with his work. He's been betrayed so deeply by the woman he loved that I doubt this man will ever love like that again. He's...oh, just trust me, you can't even begin to understand this man's psyche."

"I was talking about Alex and Pavel. You like men with psychological quirks."

She let out a wisp of displeasure, "What are you talking about?"

"Pavel, he was a very complex man, too romantic to be a spook. His love for you got him killed."

Isibél went white and sat down. She knew what he said was true, but no one had ever dared to confirm Pavel's death out loud. The fact that Stanley, of all people, would be the one to announce and verify it, made it even more real to her. He had several Russian connections and if Pavel was dead, he would know.

Stanley studied her and felt a twinge of sympathy, "Isibél, you knew he was dead didn't you? I mean the government took him out within twenty-four hours of stepping back on Russian soil. For Gods sake, he had fallen in love with a CIA agent and had given you classified files on the Chinese. Granted the Russians benefitted from us secretly taking out the Chinese bases on the border, but still, he had compromised himself."

"But he went back out of love for his country. I don't get it."

He shook his head and gently smiled at her, "He was still compromised. Look, you were madly in love with him, but you never once gave him anything to take back to the Russians."

"How do you know?" She said defiantly.

"If you had given him something they probably wouldn't have killed him. They would have assumed your affair was a cover to get the information. The fact that they killed him confirmed that you didn't give him anything." He said it to reassure her, but he could see from her face that this information was only causing her pain.

She said it slowly, sadly, "You mean, if I had given him something to take back, any classified information, he would have been spared?"

"Isibél, you're a big girl. You know how this works. You would have been a traitor, someone at the Farm would have arranged with some other country to have you eliminated. The fact is, you're patriotic, just like Pavel. He gave the information to you because the idiot in charge in Moscow at the time wasn't acting on the information about the Chinese bases. Pavel was a true patriot, he gave the information to us, knowing we'd do something with it and knowing he'd probably lose his life over it. Do you really think that if you had given any information to Pavel, he would have given it to the Russians? He knew The Company would have you killed. He loved you too much to do that. You were his Achilles heel. He made a lousy spy in the end."

"Still, if I had given him something and he didn't use it, that would be his choice. I just never let myself think about it. I was so stupid."

"It happens. Hell, I even fell in love with an operative once. It almost cost me my job too. No one blamed you. We watched you like a hawk, but we didn't blame you. It was that stupid jerk in MI6 that got all hot and bothered over it."

"It's in the past. I just want to move on."

"Yeah, well Morell says you are going to get paid for being a civilian consultant. You'll probably get more money this way than if you were working for the The Company."

She chuckled. Sometimes it didn't make sense. She didn't have responsibility for the investigation and yet she would probably be paid more than Stanley for her work on it. Life was strange.

"When you know more, let me know. I'm going to start working on vendors. It feels like an inside job and yet it doesn't. I think we may be seeing a combination of factors making it difficult to figure out."

"This case isn't high on our list." Stanley said, taking another donut out of the box, "I mean the other case has 4,000 Curie missing and it slipped out over a similar amount of time. We just don't see any overlapping. Since it happened over a long period, it hasn't been a front burner. We'd have more agents assigned if it had all gone missing at once."

"I understand. Still, it's disturbing. If they are connected, then the buyers now have 5,000 Curie of Cesium. That's not a comforting thought."

Stanley looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. Isibél left and went to the hospital. At noon she went to the staff gym and worked out. She received a voicemail on her phone while she was working out. She listened and heard Ralph inform her that there had been a development, to come as soon as possible.

She showered and dressed in her motorcycle gear. She ran to the parking lot and saw House's motorcycle. She knew that he would be in group therapy right about now. That made her chuckle, she really should plant a bug to listen to what he said in therapy, she knew that at least it would be entertaining.

When Isibél arrived at the off-site office she found Beth, Ralph, Dietler, and Stanley at a desk. They were sitting grouped around a computer, watching a clip over and over.

Stanley looked up, " Isibél, come here. What does this look like to you?"

He showed a clip from the hallway outside of Radiology. First a few orderlies went by chatting, but nothing suspicious. Around 1700 several staff left Radiology, just as a woman with a toolcase arrived. The staff apparently knew her as she walked into the department they all talked to her. Around 1825 House arrived, went inside and closed the door. At 1830 a custodian arrived outside the door and kept cleaning the same spot over and over. At 1849 the custodian looked up, made a quick phone call, grabbed his cleaning gear and took off. The timestamp showed that at 1850 a man in a suit entered Radiology. Soon thereafter, at 1855 a large gurney with a patient arrived and was wheeled inside by an orderly. At 1903 House left the office. Stanley fast forwarded to 1929 when the orderly and the patient left. At 1930 the woman with the tool case left, followed at 1937 by the man without a lab coat.

Stanley looked at everyone, "Ideas?"

Dietler spoke up, "I think I understand some of it. The staff leaves at 5:00 pm as the woman with the tool box arrives. She probably works on copiers or computers because the whole staff seem to know her. House arrives to wait for his patient to come down for an MRI. I think the janitor is a lookout for the man who comes later. The patient shows, the MRI is given. House leaves, they load up the patient, the repair woman leaves and then the man leaves. The lookout and the man without a lab coat is where we need to concentrate right now." He looked directly at Isibél, "This date corresponds to 5 Currie missing and a large deposit of $25,000 going into House's account the following day. I think House and the man have something going on and this is when the exchange took place."

Isibél showed no response to this. She was thinking. She had a feeling the patient was not House's and the man without a lab coat probably wasn't wearing one because it was hung up inside the Radiology Lab. She had a feeling he was the MRI tech who gave the patient the MRI. Isibél was more worried about why House would be down there if he didn't have a patient. The time of his arrival seemed strange. She doubted that House would wait that long for a patient to arrive and then depart before his "patient." Isibél had to get House comfortable enough to share things with her and it had to be soon.

Isibél told Stanley, "Find out who the woman is, run a background check on her, the janitor and the man. Do we already know who the janitor is?"

Ralph looked through records and searched the time cards for that night. His eyes grew wide as he looked up at Isibél, " Tariq Sadri.'

Stanley and Isibél said in unison, "Iranian?"

Ralph shrugged his shoulders, it was very likely. The name sounded Iranian which mean he was probably a Muslim.

There was a very pregnant pause as everyone thought about this. Dietler knew he had to take action, "We need to pull Tariq in and find out what he knows.

Isibél shook her head, "If you start tipping your hand, we'll lose everyone. It could be a coincidence. We need profiles on the woman repairman, the janitor and the man without the labcoat. You better pull files on the orderly too. He could have snuck it out with the patient. Stanley, don't do anything until we have more information on all of these players." Isibél turned abruptly to Ralph, "How long will it take to get the files?"

Ralph looked into the air as if he was calculating it for her, "Depending on the identification of the man without the lab coat, maybe three-four days."

Dietler laughed to himself, Stanley was making the same mistake he did. He was treating Isibél as if she were in charge. She had been two paygrades above Stanley when she quit. Isibél had been a famous operative, taking down more foreign operatives and garnering more information in her six years than most hope to get in their entire clandestine career. She was a spy's spy. At least she was until a friendly had outed her because of her affair with Pavel Yevtushenko. It was a huge loss to the clandestine side of The Company, but a boon to the Analyst Side of the CIA. With her understanding of how things worked in the real world, she again obtained more information for analysis through her contacts in the political world than any other analyst. It didn't hurt that when she wanted to be, Isibél could be intoxicating. He pitied the man she set her claws into. He never understood how Alex had let her slip away. He said he sent her packing and most of the men believed that. Alex didn't do anything unless The Company sanctioned it or promoted it. When Isibél had left the family, Alex was beside himself. He told Dietler that it was like sleeping with a stranger. Dietler never did like Alex. Alex had little, if any, personality. He never understood why Isibél had accepted Alex's proposal.

Dietler always found that there was an odd component about Isibél that puzzled everyone at The Company. Isibél was a great employee, trustworthy, dedicated, hard-working, willing to put in every hour necessary, but The Company wasn't everything to her. She wasn't opposed to entertaining offers by other government agencies to leave. If she thought another job would be more interesting, she would have left in a heartbeat.

"Stanley, I hate to point this out, but Isibél's a civilian."

Isibél stopped, realized she had done it again, mugged for Stanley in her best little innocent girl look. There was a lot of laughter. Stanley held up a hand to quiet everyone, "She's on the books as a consultant, so we can still defer to her if she makes sense. But then, when did Isibél ever make sense?"

Isibél slapped his head with her open palm and everyone chuckled. Dietler thought Stanley was a better fit for Isibél. Stanley was good looking, intelligent, fast on his feet and adored Isibél. But he made a big mistake. After they had been dating for six months, Stanley and Isibél had a huge row just before she was to go undercover in Moscow. Stanley thought the row meant they were broken up. He was crushed. Isibél just thought it was a row. She caught Stanley in bed with a civilian and that was it. Stanley saw the look on Isibél's face and realized that she hadn't given up on them, but now it was over. Stanley was upset over it fo a long time. Losing Isibél was hard on him. But he never let it get in his way of doing his job and now they had formed a warm friendship which made everything run smoother.

"I have to get back to the hospital, I have an appointment in ten minutes. I'll interview the janitor when you get his file. I'll do it under some hospital security protocol story and see what I can get."

Stanley warned her, "Work on House or else."

"Okay, I'll get you something by Monday." she promised.

**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN- I want to thank those who have posted comments. I'm going to the Amazon and Peru on Monday and so I have to dole out my time judiciously this weekend. Thanks for reading.**


	13. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

**HOUSE WARMING**

That evening I tested House, "Do you think you're ready to go back to your apartment?"

He grinned, "You tired of me already?"

"It's been two weeks."

He gave me a lusty grin,"Not until I get to sleep in your bed."

"That can be arranged. I was thinking about going to Washington D.C. to see some friends and you could use my bed then."

"This weekend?" he sounded upset.

"Greg, I don't really want you to leave unless you think you could stay alone and not be tempted to find your next bottle of Vicodin."

"My therapist said that I can't live alone yet. He said that I need to give it another week or two." he was reluctant to share this information with me. I think that despite the fact he liked someone picking up after him and the occasional home-made meal, he missed his piano and his solitude. I understood. I couldn't wait to have my life back so I could walk around in the nude and do all those wonderful things you can do alone that you don't dare do when someone else is around.

I tried to sound as understanding as I could without sounding condescending, "Greg, stay here as long as you need to. You're only half the pain in the ss I thought you would be. I tell you what, I can postpone my trip. But the sofa bed is yours, Padwan."

I was being truthful. He had been a rather fun houseguest. We played cards, scrabble (at which he cheats), ate out together and watched more television and DVDs than I had in my whole life. He even invited me to the movies once, dutch treat. I didn't like the fact that dirty clothes got left everywhere and the sofa bed didn't get put away unless I asked, but those things were benign compared to the hell I had heard he could create.

I have found that people who are jerks in public, tend to be more tolerable when they are one on one with someone. They dynamics of interaction change and they find themselves having to communicate and not just do theatrics to make a point or get attention. House was funny and irreverent, but he was polite to me when we were alone. When we were at the hospital, I was fair game. I could understand why Wilson was able to maintain a relationship with him.

The next day we arrived home around the same time. I got into my shorts and a top and grabbed a tall glass of ice tea. House grabbed a beer and joined me in the living room. He was in a t-shirt and levis. His arms were starting to increase in girth with his workouts. It looked good on him.

"Let's go get something to eat and grab a movie. I want to see that one with Matt Damon in it." He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's a spy movie."

"Hmm. I find those spy movies pretty far fetched. They're very hard to believe."

"You're suppose to suspend your disbelief." He sighed, "Okay, I just thought I'd ask." He got up to go.

I was shocked, he was going to go without me! I don't know why that bothered me. We weren't a couple, but he didn't even offer me an alternative to the spy movie. "I didn't say that I wouldn't go! Let me just freshen up and I'll be ready in five minutes, okay?"

He gave me an exaggerated, "Okay."

I ran back into my bedroom, grabbed some clothes to go out in and ran into the bathroom. I stripped quickly, washed under my arms, put on deodorant, sprayed a little Marc Jacobs Gardenia perfume on, put on eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. I slipped on a spaghetti strapped summer dress, some two inch sandals, brushed my hair back into a pony tail and was ready to go. I reached in the closet and got a little sweater, I always freeze in movie theaters.

I ran out to the living room, out of breath. He frowned and shook his head, "Christ, it's just dinner and a movie, not a date."

My ego was deflated like a tire hitting a nail. I wanted to crawl in a hole. Usually I get praised when I clean up and put on a girlie dress. He looked me in the eye and snorted, taking some pleasure in the fact that he had hurt me. He turned and went to the door, "You better get your helmet."

I grabbed my helmet and put on my sweater. I held on tight around his waist as I straddled his bike. He didn't take any wide turns or try to scare me, but still it was fun to be on the back of a motorcycle with my arms around a guy. It was a hot evening and the wind felt good. I had no clue where we were going for dinner. We ended up eating at an Italian restaurant. I had chicken alfredo and he had a small pizza with barbeque chicken on it. We shared a little of our food and I have to admit I liked the pizza better.

We went to see his movie and I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "That wouldn't happen; that piece of equipment doesn't really exist; or, my favorite, you'd be out of The Company on your butt if you ever tried that." When the movie let out I waited for Greg to come out of the restroom. I was surprised to see Dr. Cameron and a blonde male coming out of another theater. Cameron walked up to me. "Hi! I didn't expect to see you here. What movie did you see?" she asked me.

"The spy one with Matt Damon."

She nodded and turned to the blonde on her arm, "Robert Chase, this is Isibél O'Rourke, our new attorney."

I was shaking his hand when I saw House come out of the bathroom. He was watching us shake hands. He came over to join us. Robert immediately reacted in a very positive way. "House!" He patted House on the upper arm in a friendly way, "It's great to see you."

House looked at the two of them and then put his arm around my shoulder. I wasn't sure what I was suppose to do, so I played along and put my arm around his waist. "Are you still sucking the toe jam out of Winters over at Princeton General?"

"No, I've been given my own department. I'm the attending in the ER. You look a little on the tired side. Are you okay?" Robert sounded genuinely concerned.

"Just out of rehab."

Chase nodded without saying anything more about it. I looked at Cameron and she seemed mildly annoyed at us. I could tell that she was truly happy with Robert and that they had a comfortable relationship, but there was still something about her look that made me think she was a little jealous of me, not much, but just a little.

We stood and talked a little and then House and I went out to his motorcycle, put on our helmets and took off. I was anxious to ask him why we were pretending to be a couple, but I couldn't ask him until we got off the bike. We got home and I dismounted and went inside. He pushed the bike a little further up and locked it.

He came inside. I handed him a beer and he grabbed it out of my hand, took a swig and then reached down and kissed me out of the blue. I wasn't sure why he was doing it. Was he trying to prove something to himself, to Robert Chase, Cameron or me?

I pushed him back, "What is this? Why did you put your arm around me and now kiss me. Is this something you actually want or something you feel compelled to do?"

"I know you were a political analyst, but do you really feel the need to analyze me and everything I do?"

"When you act like a sixteen year old who ignores me one minute, insults me when I dress up in a dress and then wants to kiss me, yeah I'd like an explanation."

"Well obviously the dress worked, I've noticed that you're a girl."

I thought about what I was suppose to do, get an emotional connection so he would open up. Yet, I didn't feel that this was really an emotional desire to have me as it was an emotional desire to look normal to the outside world, or more importantly, to himself.

"Greg." I could tell my voice sounded sad, as if I pitied him.

"Christ, it was just a kiss. I think I'll go home now." He turned and went out to the living room and started throwing his stuff in his backpack.

I came up behind him and put my arms around his waist and up his t-shirt. He stopped and turned around. He leaned in and kissed me again. He put his hand on my ss, pulling me into him. His fingers, long and forceful, grabbed me so hard I almost cried out. I could feel his tongue slipping into my mouth. I could taste him, smell after-shave, the coconut shampoo, the beer. I could feel that this was real, this wasn't a show for someone else. He wanted this. I did too.

He slid his hand slowly up the curves of my body underneath my dress until he couldn't get past the waistband. He was frustrated with the dress and so he pulled his hand out from underneath and reached up to unzip it. He unzipped it to the waist where it got stuck in some fabric. The dress fell off of my shoulders, revealing my naked breasts.

He pulled his head back to look down. He touched my shoulders gently and then slipped his hands under both breasts to cup them. He reached down and kissed my neck and my shoulders while his thumbs played with my nipples. He started licking and sucking my nipples when I heard the door open and close in the hall and Beth's voice yell out for me, "Isibél?"

I pushed Greg away and he fell back onto the floor with a thud. "Beth! Wait in the hall please." I screamed quickly.

"Oh, is this a bad time?" she asked, the tone of her voice amused.

"I'd say," Greg yelled at her. He looked up at me while I pulled up my dress, "Don't your friends knock? Can't you tell her to go away?"

I started to pull the zipper up and motioned for him to get up. "I can't, she's a good friend and I don't see her very often. She's wasn't suppose to be here until tomorrow." I was dressed enough to go greet her, "Beth, I thought you weren't suppose to get here until tomorrow."

Beth understood right away, "Sorry about that, but they let us out of the seminar early, so I thought I'd get a head start. I can leave and go back to my hotel."

I went to the door to welcome her and she handed me a file and then motioned for me to review it. It must have meant that something was up and they needed me to look at the file right away or they wouldn't have had it delivered without first calling.

House looked around the wall to see who it was. I stashed the file behind me. "Could you maybe go for a long walk around the block and forget how to get back here? We were right in the middle of something."

I looked at him, "Greg, I'm sorry, but I promised Beth that as soon as she got in I'd take her for a drink." I turned back to Beth, "right?"

"I'm afraid so and I didn't eat all day so I need to eat too." Beth volunteered.

I turned back to Greg, "Do you want to go with us? Have a drink, desert?"

"No, I think I'll stay and have sex with someone I love... me." House smirked.

I chuckled, but in reality I was wishing I could stay too and continue what we had started. We went out to Beth's car and we started driving to the office as I read the file.

The Iraqi janitor was dead, a single bullet to the head. Apparently, a man had discovered a canvas wrapped body weighted and dropped in Carnegie Lake. Whoever had done it was at least attempting to hide what he did. He just hadn't counted on the fact that he had dumped the body in an area scheduled to be dredged for overgrowth of reeds. The body had been disposed of in a manner so that it wouldn't be found and this, in itself, was significant. It meant our adversary was getting smarter.

The file indicated that Tariq's father had been very rich in Iran before the Shah was deposed. His father managed to get out of Iran, but had to leave most of his fortune. His son, born in Iraq, was considered marginally slow, but was bright enough to apply and maintain his current job as a night janitor at PPTH. There were no signs that either the father or the janitor were involved in any fanatical Muslim movements. In fact, the father, who was still alive, was very grateful to the United States government for getting his family out of Iraq and was almost an ultra-patriot when it came to the USA. There was no indication that they were part of a radical Muslim cell. However, the father had disowned his son because Tariq enjoyed a bottle of beer and some drugs every now and then.

"Nothing makes sense in this case. The only valid reason to kill the janitor is to keep his mouth shut. But why? What did a slow janitor know? He probably saw someone take something, maybe the Cesium. Damn, I'm going to have to get House to tell me all he knows and he isn't ready." I said.

We talked for an hour at the office, but nothing was accomplished. None of us could figure out why Raven and the janitor were both killed. I was worried,"This is going to blow the case. Two murders from the same hospital in the same manner? We won't be able to keep a lid on it."

"Well, the public won't know for awhile. We'll be able to keep a lid on the janitor's murder for as long as we like. The guy who discovered the body is ex-FBI who retired and bought the skimmers for cleaning the lake. He makes good money doing it. He's on board to keep it quiet."

"Okay, that's good." I had to sit down, "Whew, I'm a little wobbly. Beth, can you take me home?"

"You okay?" Stanley asked.

"I don't know, I've been sitting here feeling worse by the minute. I just need a good night's sleep."

Beth cackled, "Well you're not going to get a good night's sleep if I take you back to your apartment. House has a little something for you or maybe a big something if his long fingers are any gauge."

I looked at her, "Ha, ha. Now can we go home?" We went to her car and she drove me home.

I opened the door and started to look for House. He wasn't in the living room, but his motorcycle was outside. I really just wanted to sleep. I wasn't surprised to find him asleep in my bed surrounded by pillows. I was too tired to tell him to leave and too wiped out to do anything with him. So I grabbed a pair of shorty pajamas, went into the bathroom, got into the pajamas, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. I had the shivers, but I was really hot. My head was killing me and my eyes were burning. I stayed on my side of the bed and could feel myself drifting into sleep.


	14. Chapter 10 It's All Greek to Me

**CHAPTER 10**

**IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME**

He tried to wake himself up. He could hear a woman talking to him. He managed to open an eye and soon became aware that this wasn't his bedroom. He could see the clock, it said 4:45 am. Then he realized he was in her bed. He turned over and could barely see her in the dark, but he could definitely tell it was her voice.

"Isibél?" He asked tentatively. But, she just kept babbling. He reached over and turned on the light and looked down at her. She was perspiring, tossing and turning and she was speaking in a foreign language.

House could see she had a fever, but he had to admit he was more interested in whatever she was saying. He listened carefully and realized she was speaking fluent Russian. He knew enough Russian to know hers was perfect. He said out loud, more to himself than to her, "Jesus, Isibél, where did you learn Russian?"

Her eyes flew open and he could see they were bright and filmy from the fever. She didn't appear to recognize him. She asked him in Russian, "Have you seen Pavel?"

_Thank God it's a basic phrase and I can understand it. _"No I haven't see Pavel. Who is Pavel?"

She said in Russian, "Is he dead, did they kill him?"

House looked at her face. She was frantic, scared, worried, "I don't know," he answered.

Again in Russian she cried, "Why won't you tell me? Did you kill him?"

House shook his head and tried to tell her in Russian, ""No, I don't know Pavel."

This unleashed a torrent of Russian that went too fast for House to make out except for the odd word. He laughed and said in Italian, "I don't know enough Russian to keep up, but I do know Italian!"

He was shocked when she switched to Italian, "Where is Pavel? Please you must tell me. Is he dead? Why did he leave?"

House understood Italian well. He had lived in Italy on base with his parents. He told her in Italian, "Calm down, Pavel told me that your breasts weren't big enough and he was going to find a big-breasted woman." She went quiet. He finally felt her forehead, "Damn." He knew he was going to have to take her into the hospital, her fever was dangerously high.

She asked him in Italian, "Are you going to leave me for a big-breasted woman?"

"This other woman, how big are these breasts we're talking about?"

She didn't seem to understand him. Her face was bewildered and scared, "How big would they have to be for you to leave me?"

He chuckled at her and then felt a little guilty. Her brain was frying and he was making fun of her, "I'm not going to leave because of your breasts. I may leave if you keep boring me, but not because of your breasts."

He found her robe and some slip on shoes and bundled her up. While he was doing it, he experimented with her. He tried out a few Greek phrases he knew, but she spoke back to him in Italian.

"Am I boring you? Are you leaving?" she asked.

There was something sad about the way she asked, like she had been left before. "You're not boring me, not if you keep switching languages."

He tried Japanese and she immediately answered in Japanese. He tried some Chinese and she answered in Chinese. He tried the only German phrases he knew and she spoke Russian back to him, again saying something about Pavel.

He loaded her up in her car and started to drive her to PPTH. He continued with his little experiment and discovered that she knew the Romantic languages, Spanish, French and Italian. House only knew one phrase in Farsi, and she responded, but she didn't know Hindi. He was quite amused by all of this, and curious.

He tried to talk to her in English, but when he did she would revert back to Russian. He stayed in Italian. He asked her in Italian where she hurt.

In Italian she responded, "My head hurts, my eyes burn and my neck is hurting."

He said in English, "God, you speak Italian perfectly. Your accent is beautiful."

His English caused her to revert to Russian. She couldn't sit up, she laid across the gear box, putting her head in his lap. He could feel the heat from her fever through his jeans. She was going on and on about Pavel.

He spoke to her in Italian, "Why do you speak so many languages?"

"My assignments." She said into the leg of his jeans. She rolled her head and looked up at him. She asked back, "Greg, is that you?" She squinted to try and make out his face, "Who is Mohammad?"

"Mohammad?" He was puzzled by the non-sequitur, "You mean the prophet?" She wasn't being lucid.

"No, the guy who wants your services."

"Services?" He thought a minute, "Oh, Mohammad! How do you know about Mohammad?"

"I saw your email."

"How?"

"I saw it." She was drooling and starting to shiver. He could see the lights of PPTH ahead and so he picked up the speed.

He looked down at her, the shivering had slowed and she was turned, looking up at him again, as if she was waiting for him to answer. "Mohammad is a jazz guitarist for a Jazz band called Newport West. I play piano for them on occasion. Why?"

With the sweetest look and voice she said in Italian, "Greg, I'm so glad to hear that. I'm really happy to know you aren't a terrorist."

He started laughing. "Well, I'm glad I could make you happy. That's the first time I've made a woman happy that didn't involve my tongue." She started convulsing. He pulled up into the Emergency Room parking and screamed, "Hey, can I get some help here?"

They rushed a gurney over and grabbed Isibél and whisked her inside. House had forgotten a cane and so he had to hobble inside. By the time House had reached her bedside, Isibél was hooked up to monitors and he could see her fever was 106.4, B.P. was 68/49 and her heart rate was 102 with palpitations.

House left her to the ER doctors and went upstairs to his office, but not before leaving a message with the ER nurses to call him when they got her fever down or diagnosed her. He was in his office when Lisa Cuddy walked by. She stuck her head inside his office.

"What are you doing here this early on a Saturday morning?"

"What are you doing here?" He asked in return.

"We had a lot number screw up on morphine. One of the nurses, and we don't know which one, failed to record the right number on the log. We ended up with two doses with the same lot number. I had to come down and sign off on it. Now, your turn."

"Isibél O'Rourke woke me up speaking Russian. She switched to Italian, Chinese, Spanish, French and I think, Farsi. She's in the ER running a fever of 106.4." He blew air into the pockets of his cheeks and swished it back and forth as if he was bored.

"_What? _You have to get down there! You need to make sure she's okay."

He looked at her with suspicion, "Why?"

"Because she's very important to our hospital. Just get down there."

He was even more convinced that something was up from the concerned tenor of her voice; she was almost frantic. "_Why_?"

"Please. Just do this. She's done a lot for you. Please do this for her."

"No. It's probably the flu or strep. She's got several doctors looking after her; they don't need me."

The phone rang and House picked it up, "House...What? ...Yeah, okay." He hung up and looked at Cuddy as he stood up. "Her fever's gone to 107 so they're starting ice blankets. Her skin is bruised and she's turning yellow." He grabbed his spare cane and took off for the elevator. He looked at Cuddy over his shoulder. She was following him.

"You're going down there, right?" She insisted.

He rolled his eyes. "They asked for a consult. I'm going."

"I'm going with you."

The ride on the elevator down to the ER was silent. When they got off the elevator he went down to the isolation room. She was strapped in the bed to keep her from hurting herself when she went into convulsions. There were ice blankets laying on top of her. He walked over to her and took a look at Isibél's arms and torso. They were yellow and there was bruising.

He looked at the ER doctor, "Run a Creatine Kinase test, liver enzymes, and get a CSF. In the meantime administer 100 mg of Vibramycin every twelve hours. Give her fluids and electrolyte therapy. And bring me 200 mg of Vibramycin."

Cuddy looked at him, "What are you thinking?"

"Leptospirosis." He watched Cuddy's reaction. It confirmed his suspicions. She didn't blink or seemed surprised by the diagnosis. "Okay, you want to tell me what's going on? I just told you that the woman, who has been here in Princeton for the last few weeks, has a water borne disease that usually found in the tropics and you don't bat an eye."

"I wouldn't know, I'm just following your lead." Lisa tried to sound casual.

"Bull. You know something about my Russian spewing girlfriend. You better tell me."

"Girlfriend?"

He kept watching Lisa to gauge her reaction, "She woke me up spouting Russian, I _rolled over _and she wouldn't talk to me in English. I spoke to her in Italian and Japanese and she responded. Then I felt her head, got her dressed and brought her in to the hospital." He watched Lisa Cuddy get agitated.

"You were _sleeping_ with her?"

"I guess when two people are in the same bed asleep you could call it that. I like to think of it as "collective somnus." Now tell me what you know, it may be important to her treatment. I need a history."

Lisa grimaced. _It could mean Isibél living or dying. _"She may have been in a foreign country before she came to the hospital to work. Or she may have been exposed to people who were out of the country."

"Which country and why?"

Lisa looked around to see if anyone was listening, "She was a political analyst in Washington D.C. and she just broke up with her fiancé who was frequently out of the country. As a political analyst I understood that she would occasionally take trips to meet with people in foreign countries who could assist her in her work." Lisa hoped she gave him enough information to help. She couldn't tell him about the Cesium 137 or the fact that Isibél was a spook. Lisa didn't think the Cesium 137 was a factor anyway. It was unlikely that Isibél would have been exposed to any. "Are you really sleeping with her?"

"Sleeping, yes. Having sex? I've put it on my list of things to do."

"House, you should think twice about starting anything with Isibél. I'm beginning to think she may not be here for long."

He tilted his head and looked sideways at her, "What is that suppose to mean?"

"Just that she's so talented. I don't think she'll stay long in this position. I think she's having a hard time making the jump from Washington to here."

House stared at Cuddy and then got very close to her and looked at her eyes, "You're still holding back. I just hope she doesn't die because of you." The nurse handed House two capsules of Doxycycline, he popped them in his mouth.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you I was sleeping with her. We may not have slept together yet, but we have exchanged some bodily fluids. It's just prophylactic, like a rubber. You remember those don't you, or has it been so long you forgot what prophylactic means?"

Lisa turned and went back to her office. She called Dietler. "Agent Dietler? This is Lisa Cuddy. Isibél O'Rourke has been admitted to the hospital with a very high fever."

There was a groggy response on the other end, "High fever?"

"High fever, headache, neckache."

"Who's her doctor?"

"I assigned my best, Dr. Gregory House."

Dietler's feet hit the ground and he shot up to a standing position,"_House?_" His mind was racing. If House was the perp, this would be the easiest way to kill Isibél_. He could just treat her with the wrong medicine. _"I'll be there in a few minutes, keep House away from her."

"He's already started treatment and tests."

"Treatment before he has the tests back?" This sounded highly suspicious to Dietler.

Lisa sighed, "Her fever was up to 107°F - without immediate treatment she could have organ failure and possibly die. He's doing everything I would do, treating her with ice baths, antibiotics and fluids."

"I'm on my way." Dietler tried to dress and make calls all at the same time. The Company was sending their own doctors just to make sure it wasn't radiation poisoning from House's closet.

Dietler arrived forty-five minutes later and within minutes of his arrival, two men exited a helicopter on the roof of PPTH. They joined Dietler upstairs where Isibél had been moved. House had gone to get some coffee and had taken a side trip to the bathroom with an Electronic Gaming magazine. Cuddy joined Dietler.

"Where's House?" Dietler asked Cuddy.

"I don't know." Cuddy responded.

"Go ahead." Dietler looked at the two men and then motioned towards Isibél.

The two men went over and examined Isibél and then read her charts. "They've run some tests, but the results aren't in her chart." The shorter one said.

Dietler turned to Cuddy, "Where are the results of her tests?"

"They may not be back yet," she said.

The door opened and a very serious and dour looking House joined them, "What's going on?" he said suspiciously.

Dietler looked at Cuddy and back at House, "We're friends of Isibél's. We wanted to know the results of the tests you ran."

House had stopped and picked two of the three tests up. "Everyone's fairly jumpy and nervous in here. Why don't you tell me who you really are?"

"We're really friends of Isibél, now what were those results?" the shorter man reiterated.

"Liver enzymes were elevated and the CSF confirmed my diagnosis of Leptospirosis.'

"_Leptospirosis?_" the short man almost yelled. He grabbed the results out of House's hands. House tried to grab them back, but the guy was too quick for him. The short guy read the results to himself.

He nodded to Dietler, "He's right." He then turned to House, "I saw you have her on Doxycyclene, that's fine. According to her chart, it looks like her fever is dropping." He looked at Dietler and said, "We're good here."

Dietler asked the short guy, "Anything else?"

"We need to know where she got it from."

"Her last trip was Colombia four days before she left her employer." Dietler said.

House asked, " Isibél was in Colombia? When?"

"Maybe a little over a month ago." Dietler responded.

House was curious and it showed, "Why?"

"She was there on business and it's none of yours."

The short man put the chart down, gave the results back to House and left with the other man. Dietler stayed behind.

"Dr. Cuddy, if there are any changes, could you call me?"

"Of course."

Dietler left. House looked at Cuddy with an expression that said he expected her to spill the beans.

"I can't." Lisa said and ran out of the room.

House was incredibly curious, but he was also concerned about Isibél, worried that her organs had been damaged. The liver enzymes and yellow, sallow color of her skin certainly indicated that her liver was inflamed, but typically it would return to normal with treatment. He was worried mostly about her kidneys. He order several tests and then went back to her apartment. He needed to do some snooping.

House got back to the apartment and started looking around. It dawned on him that she did not have any personal photos out. There were none of her with family, friends, or even just of her. He looked for other personal items like photo albums, college or high school year books. There were none. He looked for anything that told him where Isibél came from, but he could see no outward signs of her past. The only thing personal around was a photo of Bridalveil Falls, but there was no one in the photo.

He started rummaging through her desk. He found her bank accounts, but they were only from her Princeton accounts. He found her passport and was surprised to see that she was born in Chula Vista, CA and was thirty-eight years old. The passport had no stamps whatsoever. If she had been in Colombia, it wasn't on this passport.He started pulling things apart. Nothing. He looked in the closet and found one small trunk. He pulled it out. It had winter clothes in it and some sports equipment for kayaking and repelling. He looked at the trunk and it struck him odd that the bottom of the inside was about six inches off the floor. He poked around, dumped everything out and then started playing around. He twisted one of the loop handles and discovered it turned 180° and when it did, he heard a click, like the release of a latch. He looked inside and saw that the bottom had popped up a little. He pulled the bottom up and saw a box. He pulled it out and opened it.

House pulled back at the sight of it. He rubbed his upper lip and then tentatively reached in to pull it out. It was a Fabrique Nationale Five-seveN Tactical hand gun with laser scope and silencer. It looked heavy, too heavy for her. But when he picked it up, he was surprised how light it was. He assembled it and aimed it around the room. It occurred to him that it might just be loaded. He opened the chamber and found a full magazine. He smiled. He had a puzzle and her name was Isibél.

_What the hell is she doing with a gun like this? Why doesn't she have anything personal in her entire apartment? Why are men swooping down when she gets sick? What was this political think tank? Why would she be in Colombia? Who is she?_

He found her laptop and tried to start it up, but as soon as he tried a password – he tried "Alex," it froze and died. Then he noticed a flat little device hooked up to the laptop with an infra-red light when you turned it on. He tried to imagine what it was and it occurred to him that it was a thumb-print reader. You needed a thumb print to get into her computer. _A thumbprint? This is getting curiousor and curiousor..._

House's cell phone rang to the tune of _Bad to the Bone_. He saw the caller I.D. and immediately opened it up. It was Lilly.

"Hello?"

"Hi sweetie, you up for a little band practice next week?" she said.

He smiled to himself, "Are you the instrument?"

"No, I thought you might have something _I _could blow."

House smiled again. The thought of Lilly and that big pouty mouth of hers covering his made him very happy. "When?"

"Friday. Usual time."

"Friday then. Adios."

"Bye."

There was nothing else to really go through except her purse. He opened it and was once again shocked. _What is it with this woman and her guns?_ Inside the purse was a small handgun. He opened the wallet and found no photos or memorabilia, just an AMEX, Visa and Discover card.

House went back to the hospital that afternoon and found that she was responding well to the antibiotics. The tests also showed that there was no damage to her kidneys. He went into her room and she looked up.

In Italian he asked her, "How are you feeling?"

She answered in English, "Better."

He continued to speak to her, this time in Japanese, "You should get out of here in a couple of days now that we have the disease under control. You'll be a little weak for a couple of days or more."

"Am I contagious?" she answered, obviously understanding the Japanese.

"Not now." he said in his rough Russian.

She smiled a little at all the languages, "When can I return to work?"

"Quizás el jueves."

"Thursday? Ugh. This is terrible. Where did I get it?"

"Colombia."

Her face drained of blood and he could see that she was finally taken off guard. "Dietler was here and told us about Colombia." He was sure that there was more to her than met the eye. Three men flew in on a helicopter just to insure she was okay. She was someone important to National Security or being a Political Analyst for the State Department was more interesting that he thought.

"What did he say?" she knew Dietler would not let House in on the fact she had been CIA.

"Just that you had been down in Colombia snorting coke about a month ago."

"That's true. I had to meet with the Colonel waging an assault on one of the cartels and he was out in the jungle. Sometimes my political analysis required me to go hunt down the people making up the politics of the country I was analyzing."

"Well, I've saved your pretty little ss, would you mind sharing it with me?"

"I noticed you found your way to my bedroom last night. That was a little presumptuous of you."

"You didn't kick me out."

"_I was feeling too sick to do anything about it – I just wanted to sleep."_

"Now that I've made it into the sanctuary, it's hard to get rid of me."

"You remind me of gum on my shoe."

"I'm really easier to get along with once you learn to worship me."

She nodded, "I'll definitely keep that in mind. Now get out, I need some sleep.'

"If it's beauty sleep you're going for, it isn't working."

"_Gregory House!"_

He laughed to himself and left. She was funny when she got going. House walked down the corridor and saw the luscious Dr. Tiffany Neuburger and thought seriously about flirting. But then, with living with one woman and making a date to hump another, he felt like his dance card was full. He took great pleasure in ignoring her. She looked up and noticed him.

Stanley the orderly did a lot of cleaning in Isibél's room. He informed her that the man on the tape that had been entering Radiology was a Radiologist that left PPTH about two months ago. He was probably the person running the MRI on the patient. The patient wasn't House's. That meant that House was there for another reason.

"Who was the woman?" Isibél asked.

"Her name is Lilly Parkinson. She's repairs and maintains some of the equipment in Radiology, including the MRI."

Isibél recognized the name from the address book she had taken out of House's locker. "How long has she been doing it?"

"About two and a half years."

"Have Ralph run an analysis correlating the amount of Cesium that went missing before she began to work here and after. I'm not sure about her, except for one thing. House's payments to escorts started to slow dramatically about two years ago. I think he was getting the milk for free somewhere."

"I wouldn't mind getting milk from the repairman if she looked like the one in the video." He wiggled his eyebrows. "We do see a pattern where House occasionally enters after the repair woman, but it frequently coincides with MRI's on his patients."

"Maybe he schedules them for an MRI to give him an excuse to go down to Radiology while she's there. It's a great cover. Lock the door, get yourself a lube job and then sneak next door to see how your patient is doing. Brilliant."

"Or schedule them and then sneak next door and get yourself some Cesium-137."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. House has money, but he doesn't live big."

"Isibél, we're going to bring in House. With you being sick, we can't wait."

"No! Don't! This Lilly is a big piece in the puzzle. Can we tail her?"

"I don't have the manpower. They think they're closing in up in Boston. We can't pull anyone away."

"Okay, but don't pull in House. I found out some information. The Mohammad on his email is from a jazz band, the Newport West. House plays jazz piano for them on occasion."

Stanley rinsed his mop, "I'll check it out. Get some rest and get well. We need you."

Isibél lay back and thought about House and Parkinson. It made sense. She was a booty call. She desperately wanted more information on the woman. The more Isibél tried to think, the more the fatigue would take over. Soon thoughts of House and Lily Parkinson were gone and dreams of being held in Pavel's arms were floating through her head.

On Wednesday Isibél was allowed to check out and go home. House drove her home. In fact, House had been driving her car all week. He thought she owed it to him for saving her sweet little booty. She still felt rather faint and frazzled, but she couldn't wait to get in her own bed. She opened the door to her bedroom and saw a disheveled bed that had obviously been slept in by someone. House was behind her with her small bag of drugs and dirty undies. She gave him a dirty look.

"You could have at least changed the sheets." she moaned.

"Why, I changed them on Sunday because of your cooties. I've only slept in them since Sunday night. I don't have the cooties you know...you did."

She climbed in bed and waved for him to go away. He went back to work and she tried to sleep. She could smell Gregory House all over her bed and it made her dream of him kissing and licking her breasts that night. As weak as she felt, she still wouldn't have minded a tumble with him. It had been three months since Alex broke it off and moved out. She thought about House and wondered what he would be like in bed. In her years as an operative, she had run the gamut. Her lovers had ranged from the terribly selfish to the overwhelmingly giving. She wondered where House would fit in on the spectrum. Sleep finally took over and she gave into it.

"Sleeping Beauty, want an apple?"

She opened her eyes and looked up. It was night and the lights in the house were on. House was standing over her, looking at her like she had spinach in her teeth. "What do you want?"

"I want to know if you want some food? I've got Thai noodles."

"Sure, that sounds good. I'll come out there to eat." She slowly got up and made her way out to the kitchen. It was a mess with the dishes obviously not done for days. "You couldn't load the dishwasher?"

"I was waiting for a full load."

"Oh, give me a break!" she said as she dished out the noodles to her plate. She could see it was a shrimp dish. That was good, she liked shrimp.

"You need a shower." he said while eating.

"Gee Sherlock, any other observations you'd like to make?"

"No, but can I come in and wash your genitals?"

Her eyes rolled, "Do I have to get mean with you?"

He calmed down and turned serious, "Where did you go to school?"

Isibél had to think. Her cover story in the CIA was that she went to a non-discript school. The real story was that she went to Yale. Since she was no longer in the CIA she wondered if it was okay to start telling the truth. On the other hand, House was a suspect in a major case.

"Yale."

He raised his eyebrows. "Hmmm."

"Now my turn, other than being a doctor, do you do anything else for money? Like drug dealing?"

He cocked his head, "That's a pretty strange question."

"Well, don't answer it if you don't want to."

"I bet on the ponies. I made a good chunk off of Gregory's Delight last year."

"Good Chunk?"

"About $26,000. I bought a few pleasures and socked the rest away."

"You know you're suppose to claim your gambling winnings on you tax forms."

"I do."

She knew he didn't, but she didn't dare call him on it or he'd know she had access to his tax returns.

"Where do you bet?"

"An off-track parlor off of Nassau."

"Can I go with you sometime?"

"_You like to bet?_"

She wanted to tell him about betting on Arabian horses galloping across the desert in Saudi Arabia, but simply nodded. "I like a good horse race.'

He nodded, "Sure I can take you." She looked a little frail. Her hair was slightly matted from not being washed in days and her lips were shriveled. But he'd nail her right then and there if he thought she'd let him.

"I'm taking a shower," she announced. She got off the breakfast bar stool and went down the hall.

He yelled after her, "I'll be in to give you a good washing in a minute. I'm going to load the dishwasher."

"Ohhhh, you know how to please a girl don't you?" She yelled back, laughing to herself.

She took the shower and half expected him to make good on his threat, but he didn't. When she came out of the bathroom in her clean pajamas and clean, wet hair, she grabbed some clean sheets out of the linen closet. He was laying on the bed watching television.

House looked up and saw her little face and petite features. She looked squeaky clean and even without makeup she was pretty. He got up to help strip the bed. He liked clean sheets too. They made the bed together. The sexual tension of making a bed was killing him. She would occasionally look up and smile at him. He thought about just grabbing her right then, but he decided against it. But he couldn't help looking at her like she was a tasty morsel.

"Greg, I can see you're just dying for a little action. I'm not only still feeling a little weak, but I started my period Monday. Even if I were inclined to let you, I'm just not feeling well enough."

House felt all of his anticipation flutter out the window. He couldn't help but look extremely disappointed. They put the summer duvet on the bed and he laid back down to finish watching, "_Goldfinger_."

" You and your spy movies." She said as she crawled under the covers. He got back up, took off his clothes down to his boxers and crawled under as if he expected no complaint from her. She was about to make him leave, but decided it wasn't worth the bother.

During the night an arm or a leg would graze her and she would wake. She wasn't used to sleeping with someone again. She could feel the warmth of his hairy legs and it made her want to go snuggle him. But she didn't dare wrap her body around his. If she couldn't deliver the goods, it was unfair to him. Still, the smell and warmth of a man in her bed made her ache all over for him to touch her.

Thursday brought a cascade of events and the last day of Isibél's period. She was feeling better and found herself at work steeped in legal issues for the staff. Around noon Stanley appeared to supposedly ask her a staff well-being question. She invited him into her office and closed the door.

"What's up?" She asked.

"We checked up on him. He is a big gambler and Gregory's Delight was a longshot and it came in. If he bet big on it, he probably made a ton of money."

She nodded and raised her left eyebrow, "I tell you, he's not dirty. I'd know it. What about this Parkinson woman?"

"Good news. You may be right, are you ready for this?" He looked at Isibél who raised her eyebrows in anticipation, "She works on the machines in Boston too."

"Oh my God! A link between the two hospitals? Damn. I've got chills. Have you informed the crew in Boston?"

"Nah, we want to follow up. You know Cassidy. If we're wrong he'll moan to Morell until we're all in our graves."

She understood all too well. Agent Cassidy, who was running the show in Boston, was a pain in the butt and, if your hunch turned out to be a dud, he knew how to embarrass you with it. "Okay, but find out for me when she's back down here at Princeton. We'll need to keep any eye out for House. If they don't know we're onto them, it's fine. But if either Lilly or the mole suspect we're onto them, they may think that House has screwed them over. I'm worried about him."

"We're trying to find out when she'll be back without tipping anyone off. Apparently, when she's just doing maintenance, she sets her own schedule and comes when she wants. We've got a clerk starting at her company on Monday. Hopefully, we can get you her schedule then. Isibél, I know you. You've probably put this together by now. Look, you're a civilian, you get no brownie points for keeping your hunches to yourself and then linking them together like you used to. Can't you let an old friend in on what you think is going on?"

She smiled at him. He knew her all too well and he was right. Normally, she'd keep it all to herself, because if she was wrong, then she wouldn't look stupid. But if she was right, she could bring the pieces together for everyone and dazzle them. But there was no one to dazzle anymore. She was a civilian.

"Okay, I guess you deserve to know my thought process. You have more access to the tools to figure this out so maybe, if I tell you, you can get someone to start following up some of my loose ends?" She watched him nod his head. "I think Greg House is a unwitting cover for Lilly. She's making him look like the perp. In addition, he provides her with inside information and tools, like passes, that she needs to move the Cesium. In fact, my guess is that this woman is brilliant at electronics and computers, which is how she got her job repairing Radiology equipment. I suspect that she's already figured out how to get past the hospital card reading machine. She probably stole House's card, read the magnetic strip and figured out the code that allows her access without registering a hit on the security matrix, just like Lisa Cuddy's card.

She made herself a pass and she can get into the storage room where they keep the Cesium-137 like a pro. She grabs the Cesium and then screws House as a cover for her time in the building. Plus, he makes a great patsy because he's an addict, a real jerk and he lives a rather eccentric life. She's repairing machines and screwing doctors. I bet she has someone up at Boston too."

She paused and shook her head, "Greg's a genius, but he sometimes thinks like a seventeen year old...with his little Greg." She paused again, "I guess most men do. Lilly is selling the Cesium to someone up the food chain. I don't think they're going directly to a fanatical Muslim group, although I have no doubt that's where the product ends up. I think she's selling it to the Chinese or former KGB. You should start pulling files for known Russian and Chinese rogues here on the east coast. They're the only ones who have the ability to move the goods out of the country without getting caught. They still have enough of a spook line to make it happen. They killed Raven for spilling the beans to me and they took out because he probably saw her where she shouldn't have been. Raven obviously didn't tell us everything. I bet he was trying to blackmail Lilly and she probably paid the first installment and then balked. Raven realized if he wasn't going to get his money from her, he better report the missing Cesium or it would look bad and end his career.

He looked at her, "If you're right, then House could be a target if Lilly or the mole think we're onto them. It's a good thing we haven't made a move or we could have spooked them. We have a real chance to catch them, don't we? As long as they think they can still get to the Cesium."

"I guess, but I think she's getting nervous. She probably knows things are getting too iffy. I suspect the next trip to PPTH she'll grab the last of the Cesium, take out House and get out of dodge. I bet she's already given notice where she works and is planning to leave the country as soon as she does the handoff. What have you got in the tool box?" Isibél was referring to the toys and gadgets that the team typically brought for any mission, like bugs, guns, scopes, recorders, etc.

"The usual. Why? You want to play in the sandbox?"

"Yeah, I need to grab a responder." she said.

"Sure. Who's the lucky tag?" he asked.

"House."

"Why House, I thought you said he was in the clear?"

"I'm worried. He plays it so loose. I just want to know where he is at all times while we're figuring this out. I'm afraid the idiot might just get himself killed."

"Stop by the office." Stanley said.

She did. She walked in out of the heat and into the air conditioning, grateful for the chance to cool down. She said hi to Beth. "Where's the tool kit?"

"In the closet." she nodded towards the closet in the next room.

Isibél dug around and finally found the responder she liked the best. It was easily fixed to a shoe and it had a good range. It could also be used with her modified GPS. She went back to the apartment and made dinner. When House didn't show up by 7:00 pm she got worried and called him.

"I just wanted to let you know that I made dinner." She told him.

"I've got a patient. I'll probably be here late. Why don't you bring some to the hospital? I'm hungry."

"What, am I your servant? I'm really tired, I'm still not feeling the full shilling. I'll make you a plate and put it in the refrigerator. Just heat it when you get home. How late do you think you'll be?"

"We're waiting on a test to see if it's amyloidosis. If it is, I can come home. If it isn't, I'm here even later than I thought. You'll be glad to hear that Bordeaux took a sample of my blood and just sent me the results, no Vicodin. He's scheduled me for the operation in a month."

She worried about the operation, it sounded iffy. She didn't want him to hurt, but the idea of making things worse with scar tissue bothered her too. She'd feel responsible if things went bad. "Greg? Are you sure you want this operation?

He sounded tired, his voice low, "No, but I can't stay in this much pain and function. I'm already needing the nerve blocks sooner. I need some relief or soon I won't be able to do my job."

"I could give you a massage."

"Every night for the rest of my life?" he teased.

She actually thought about the next answer, "Would you like that?"

Her answer shocked him. He expected a funny retort or insult, "Are you going to use a washcloth?"

She chuckled, "Are you a dirty boy?"

He sat up a little and started to wake up, "Sometimes. Are you a dirty girl?"

"Sometimes."

His voice strained a little, "What are you wearing?"

They both laughed.

"Wake me up when you get home." she said.

He swallowed, "Okay." He hung up the phone and sat back in his chair. He smiled as he ran his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He still didn't know who she was, really.

He worked until midnight and when the tests came back confirming the diagnosis, he went home to her apartment. He pulled up on his motorcycle and realized that it had been a long day and he was tired. But, he was still excited about waking her up. He went inside, put his backpack down and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and found a covered plate with a note. "Remove the cover and heat for four minutes. Isibél."

He heated the food and began to eat. She was a good cook. Even though it wasn't fresh, the shrimp scampi and Italian beans hit the spot. He drank a bottle of water with his meal. It was great, he only wished there was more. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He left the bathroom light on so that he could shine some light, but not too much, into her bedroom. He took all of his clothes off and climbed in bed. She was in her pajamas and her breathing indicated she was deep asleep. He looked at her silhouette and thought she looked rather sweet and innocent with her unvarnished face laying against the blue sateen pillowcase. He slipped under the covers and over next to her. He knew more than anyone that she really needed her sleep to get well. He put his hand on the side of her head and petted her hair. She didn't wake up, but she unconsciously scooted towards him and slipped her arm around him, putting her head on his chest. He so wanted to wake her, but he also wanted to let her sleep.

He thought that he would wait until the weekend. Let her rest and maybe take her out on a real date this Saturday. That would shock her. He'd let her get dressed up in one of her sundresses and then tell her how pretty she looked. He closed his eyes and thought about where they might go and what it would be like to bring her home and make love to her. She might be a little boring, but maybe boring was what he needed, someone who would take the time to massage his bad leg, make him dinner and ask him how he felt. It would be nice to see if this could work. As he thought about this he didn't realize it, but he was slipping into a comfortable slumber next to her.

Isibél woke up Friday morning and noticed that she was wrapped around a sleeping Greg House. She could tell that he was naked, but she wasn't. She couldn't remember having sex. _He must not have woke me up. I wonder why? I need to place the responder on him. _

She got up and went to her purse, pulled out the responder which was no bigger than the head of a nail. It had tiny spikes that gribbed onto cloth. She placed on the outside of the tongue of his right sneaker. Then she went into the bathroom and started the GPS, calibrating the responder with it. It was working. She brushed her teeth and then went into the kitchen to start the coffee. She heard his cell phone ring from the bedroom. _It must be on the night stand next to him. _

She brought him his cup of coffee in bed and noted he was having a serious discussion on the phone. She placed his coffee on the night stand just as he was ending his conversation. He placed the cell phone down on the night stand and took the coffee in his hand and had a drink before putting it back down. He watched her as she got into the bed on the other side and slipped over to him. She put her hand on his abdomen and smoothly ran it up his chest. She scooted up and rolled over onto his chest and kissed him, holding his face in her hand as she did.

House was starting to respond, but couldn't. The call had just come in that the patient was slipping quickly and the team was at a loss. They needed him to come in – now! He pulled away and looked at her with a gentleness he hadn't show her before, "I've got to get in, the patient has the gall to be dying. Sorry. But, I thought maybe tomorrow you and I could go out on a real date. I'd even spring for dinner if you manage to keep it under the cost of a car payment."

She pulled away, disappointed but not mad. "What about tonight?"

"I have plans. I won't be home until 8:00 or 9:00. Sorry." He sounded genuinely sorry too. "Tomorrow night?"

"You've got a date." She kissed him and then rolled off so he could get up.

**Please leave comments. This is my first time to play with a story of this genre and I'd like to know if you are enjoying it.**


	15. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

**GILDING THE LILLY**

I was a little down Friday morning. Work was busy and keeping me occupied, but I wished it was Saturday. I was looking forward to my first date as a civilian after fourteen years. It was exciting and weird all at the same time. I didn't know if I could be a civilian on a date. To make things worse, I wasn't sure Greg House was someone I wanted to date. It didn't matter, I had to get my feet wet sometime and it might as well be with the devil you know. Still I couldn't help but wondered what he was doing Friday night? Ralph was now working full time at the off-site office, so I had my office to myself. I looked around and realized I still hadn't done any decorating. Except for the folders and papers, the place looked pretty bare, kind of like my cubicle at The Farm. Around 11:40 I got a call asking me to meet the crew at the office. I took off and arrived to find them all sitting around eating sandwiches. Dietler threw me a bag, it had a tuna salad on white, one of my favorite sandwiches. It's so cool when you're with people who know you so well.

"I'm here, now what?"

"We've got word that Yuri Belyakova has been seen on the east coast, but is now believed to be in Pakistan." Beth announced.

I was surprised, "Yuri? But he's old school. Why would he get involved in dirty bombs?"

"We think he's doing it for his son-in-law, Tiron Rostov. Rostov is young and willing to do just about whatever it takes to break into the underworld. He started out smuggling cigarettes, worked his way up to electronic parts for missiles and now wants to play with the big boys. But he doesn't have the connections that Papa Yuri has."

I thought about it and it made me sad. I liked Yuri. Don't get me wrong, he was ruthless when he had to be. I remember him sending the eyeballs of a Russian traitor to the traitor's even more traitorous father. It made an impression and the man quickly switched sides. But Yuri had a soft spot and actually sent me a shawl once when I had been shot. He told me that I needed to get well quickly because he missed having a little beauty in his world.

"So you think the ultimate connection is this Tiron?"

Stanley shook his head, "We just received word from Boston that Yuri was seen in Pakistan last week so you do the math."

"Hmm. So who's the mole who grassed up the janitor?"

They all shrugged their shoulders.

I asked Ralph, "Any idea where the leading lady is?"

"We know Lilly was in Buffalo last night from one of her credit cards. But there haven't been any hits since then."

"Well, do we have a list of the maintenance contracts her company has on the East Coast? We have to find her before she gets to Princeton and catches up with House. Something tells me she's going to pull a Praying Mantis and my roomie will be headless."

"We'll have her schedule Monday." Stanley said with certainty.

"Okay." I turned to Ralph, "But, keep an eye on those credit cards. I have a bad feeling that things are going to move fast real soon."

Ralph shook his head, "Isi, I have fifteen things I'm doing and I have to get back to Washington tonight, they just received new surveillance equipment and we're being trained on it tomorrow at the Farm."

"Well, give me her credit card numbers. You can watch them today and I'll take over this evening."

Ralph nodded, "Fine, but why don't you relax? We'll have the information we need on Monday."

I looked over his shoulders as he pulled up her credit report and the credit card numbers for me. He wrote down several credit card numbers in an encrypted shorthand. Essentially he used some letters where there would be numbers. The letters corresponded to numbers on a telephone dial. It was an easy encryption, but at least if it got into the hand of a civilian, they wouldn't know what it was.

I took the paper and pocketed it. I thought we were done so I stood up. Stanley motioned for me to sit down.

"We think Yuri's son-in-law may be in Canada and driving down here next week to collect the Cesium. We got a hit off of airport security that one of his aliases showed uppurchasing a ticket to Montreal for a flight that gets in next Friday. There's also been an increase in several bogus Russians passports at Dulles. But we didn't know they were bogus until after most of them snuck through."

"Wow. We need to find Lilly." I had chills down my back. This was giving me that creepy feeling I get when the little hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"We will." Stanley said.

I went back to the hospital all jacked up and worried. What was House doing tonight? Things were heating up. If Tiron was flying in, it may be that he was coming in to shut down the operation. The smart thing for him to do would be to take out Lilly and everyone associated with her, including her contacts at the hospitals, just as insurance. The really smart thing would be to have Lilly eliminate her contacts and then take Lilly out. But I wasn't sure how smart Tiron was or how much input Yuri had into the operation. I pulled out my GPS just as Stanley came into my office.

"Long time no see," I said.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I put a responder on House's sneakers. Don't worry, I put it on a back channel so it won't interfere with any of your responders. He's on Channel 12. I'm checking where he is." The further back a channel, the weaker the signal and the harder to track. But, as long as I was within six miles of House, I'd get a clear, strong signal. It was only when he got further away would the signal would start to deteriorate. Even then, I could probably track him up to twenty miles away.

Stanley started to laugh. "I still can't believe you want to put a responder on House? He's a creature of habit-the hospital, to a take out, to your house and back to the hospital. Who needs a responder for that?"

"Yeah, but think about it. If you were Yuri and you heard that Doctor Raven at PPTH was taken out by a sniper, wouldn't you tell your protégé to shut down the operation and eliminate everyone involved or who could trace the Cesium back to you?"

I could see the light go on and Stanley shook his head. "But House isn't really a player."

"Yeah, but Yuri doesn't know that. To him, House is Lilly's inside connection in the hospital."

He nodded. "Okay, you can keep one on him until we find Lilly."

"Fine." I looked at the GPS and found House, in the middle of PPTH.

At 3:30 pm I contacted Ralph, "Any hits on the credit card?"

"Nope. I'm packing up. Have fun this weekend." He teased. We spoke for a few more minutes and then he hung up.

I finished my day around 5:00 pm and went home for the day. I dragged my CIA laptop inside. Except for the time I was in the hospital, the computer always stayed with me. I set it on top of the breakfast bar and fired it up. I placed my index finger on the reader and it brought up the next security screen, a rotating password which today was AMC743. I was in. I went to the bathroom and then fixed myself a cup of tea. I read my mail and then went back to the computer, it was almost 6:00 pm. I pulled out the credit card number and logged into the CIA database. I pulled up our file on Parkinson, Lilly and went straight to her credit card log. I immediately got a hit off of Lilly's American Express Card, _"4:16 pm, Nassau Shell, Princeton, NJ, Gasoline, $32.36."_

I jumped up, "Crap!" I yelled at the top of my voice. I put my hand up to my head to think. House had something to do and wouldn't be home until 8:00 pm or 9:00 pm. That's why he didn't ask me out tonight, he's meeting Lilly at the hospital. Crap...that stupid idiot. I ran to my closet and pulled out my chest, popped the spring floor in the bottom and grabbed my gunbox. Inside was a note! "This is a lot of gun for a tiny woman. G.H." I don't believe it. He found my gun? Damn, he's good. I'm glad he's not a spook. I assembled the laser site and the silencer, loaded the magazine and pocketed two more cartridges. I went into the kitchen and tore out the pot and pans from the cupboard, grabbed my Kevlar vest from the back and put it on. I put a light poncho on over my clothing and vest, grabbed my purse with my GPS tracker and took off. On my way to PPTH I called Stanley.

"Hello?" Stanley answered. I could hear that he was in a car.

"Stanley, she's in Princeton. Lilly is at the hospital and I'm pretty sure House is with her. I'm on my way there. What's your ETA?"

"Crap, Isibél. Beth, Dietler and I are fifteen minutes out of Langley. We're being trained on some new equipment tomorrow. You can't go in alone."

"You've got to be kidding, she may be going to take Greg out. It would be my fault if she did. I should have let you bring him in and grill him. He'd know about her and he wouldn't be in this position."

"Isi, you know how this works. House got himself into this. You can't go in by yourself, that's an order."

"I'm a civilian, remember?"

"Not for the purposes of this investigation. You're getting paid as an investigator so that means..."

I hung up. I could see the lights of PPTH ahead. I parked the car, but left everything except my gun and pass inside the car so I could run faster. I headed at break-neck speed into the building. I took the stairs, jumping over several of them until I hit the basement. I bashed through the stairwell doors, almost taking a nurse and doctor out with me. I was holding my gun under my poncho. I ran as fast as I could to Radiology, but before I turned the corner I checked carefully to see if there was a lookout. No one. I opened the door to Radiology. There was a waiting area with cushioned chairs and a window for checking in. It was dark, just the low lights of the emergency lights were on. I ran my pass through the reader and opened the door to the back as quietly as I could. The two MRI's were on different sides of the wing from each other. I went first to my right. I had to check each room as I went down the hall, just to be safe. I had my gun out in front of me with the laser site on. I was holding it with both hands in a safety hold. My heart should have been racing, but it wasn't. I felt a little ashamed of myself. I should have been frightened of killing someone, but I wasn't. I was calmly doing my job, skimming quickly through the doctor's offices, X-Ray rooms, Mammography room and finally to the MRI. I crouched down and slipped the door open as quietly as I could. I crawled a few feet, catching the door before it closed with my foot. I reached up and turned the knob to let the door close. I didn't hear anything so I nstood up just enough to see over the glass. It looked empty. But I had to know for sure. I first checked out the MRI booth and no one was in there. The machines were quiet. I quickly swept through the rest of the room, no House.

_Damn! Now I have to do the same thing on the other side._ I looked up at the clock. _6:32 pm_. The surveillance tapes show him inside at 6:00 and usually leaving by 700 pm. Whatever they're doing, they're doing it now and House may already be dead.

I ran down the corridor, turned and ran past the waiting room exit to the other side. I started the same sweep into the various rooms, first the dark doctor offices filled with desks and paperwork, the room with the evil monster– the Mammogram machine. Then I checked out the store room. As I got closer to the MRI room I could see slips of light coming from under the door. I was still calm, but my heart from racing from running so fast.

I felt the knob of the MRI room and then heard the mumbled murmur of a voice somewhere inside. I crouched and opened the door just slightly and then inched it open until I could crawl through. I caught it again before it banged closed and closed it. I crawled to the wall and put my back up to the wall of the monitor room so I could sit and listen for a second.

"Oh God that feels great. Yeah, that's it, just up a little...ooooohhhhhhhh." It was a woman's voice, "Oh Big Boy, I'm coming, I'm coming."

I could hear breathing from a man too. It was coming from the control room to which I currently had my back. I crawled over and opened the door to the control room enough to peak in...it was empty. The voices were coming through the intercom inside the control room. They must be somewhere out by the MRI itself. I couldn't stand up if I went into the control room; it was brightly lit and the MRI room was dark. I wouldn't be able to see out, but they would be able to see me.

I could hear her screaming wildly. This woman was having a fantastic orgasm, of that I was sure. She couldn't fake what I was hearing. I was a little jealous, I don't thinkI'd ever let lose like that, at least not in a long time. I was feeling a little stupid. If she was getting laid, it was unlikely she was there to take House out. I had gotten this wrong. But how?

Still I decided to go into the control room and see if the monitor was on. I crawled in on the floor and looked up from my crouched position. I could see the television monitor was on for the MRI room. The camera was focused on the area near the MRI machine. It wasn't a very good image, in black and white, but I could see portions of a naked woman sprawled on a gurney next to the MRI machine. House was naked too, standing with his butt to the camera. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and he was pounding away. I could hear him come too. He grunted and made a sound as if he was in pain. He collapsed over her with his head resting between her rather large breasts. She put her arms around him.

He took a deep breath, "That was almost as good as the first time, but what's the hurry? Why a repeat performance so fast?"

"I've got to leave soon and I just wanted to get in as much as possible." She unwrapped herself and then started looking for her clothes. As they dressed she asked him about rehab. "Are you going to stay clean?"

"Christ, I don't know. They're giving me pee tests every other day. I can't cheat, at least not yet. The pain is horrible at times."

"What about this bitch you told me about, the Shyster one who forced you into it."

"Yeah, well she's been okay." House said as he put on his trousers.

"Really? Last time we talked, you were making fun of her, the boring Shyster – overbred, underfed and a bully. Has she changed?"

"No, she's all that. But she's been okay. She certainly lacks the enthusiasm for sex that you have."

"You've had sex with her?" There was almost a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

"Are you kidding, she opens her legs and a light goes on."

I was starting to crawl out of the control room, I had seen and heard enough, it was time to go home and lick my wounds. I started across the floor towards the door to the corridor.

"Well, Greg you won't have to worry anymore. Your drug-craving, pain-filled days are over. I'm sorry. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed you. You fuck like a pro. I can honestly say that you're the best. Which makes it hard for me to do this. If I could just wrap you up like a dildo and take you out when I needed a release, I would. But right now you're a big liability and I've been told to rectify that."

"You're shitting me. Is that a gun? You're going to kill me? For what? Screwing well? Why do people always want to shoot me?" He sounded like he was asking a real question, like he really wanted to know.

"You don't know?" She asked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you unless you refuse to give yourself this injection of morphine."

I could hear the frustration in his voice, "Morphine?"

"So that it will look like the junkie decided to make the pain go away in a big way."

"So I get to kill myself with a butt-load of morphine?"

"That's right! You're so very clever. I'll miss that."

I pulled around the side with my laser gun, but House was directly in my path between the two of them. Crap...move...move jerk, move. She saw me and ran up to House, put the gun to his head and turned him around to face me. He was stunned.

"Hi honey, I see you're not cooking tonight." He said to me.

I didn't take my eyes off of Lilly. "Lilly, it's over. We know everything. Let House go." I said calmly.

She laughed, "Who the hell are you?"

"Isibél O'Rourke."

She scrunched her face and said more to House than to me, "The Shyster?"

House nodded.

"It doesn't matter who I am. You're finished. The authorities know all about you and Tiron."

Her face froze. She regained her composure, "I'm getting out of here and House is my ticket. Put your gun down and don't move. He won't get hurt."

We all knew that was a lie, she was there to kill him. I said matter of factly, "I won't put my gun down, but I won't stop you from leaving either."

"You want him dead?" she was shocked at my reply.

"No, but I just won't let go of this gun unless you shoot me dead."

"I can do that."

I laughed, "Please try. You take your aim off of House and I'll be the one to pull

the trigger. You might kill me, but you'll be dead too."

She looked at me and could see that I wasn't bragging, I was telling the truth.

She started to pull House towards the door. His leg was causing him to walk with an uneven gait, making her nervous. "Move it Greg."

"I need my cane."

She snickered, "So you can use it as a weapon? Sorry, you're just going to have to suck it up and move your ass." She pulled him with her and I let her go for now. She was in a position where she had to keep him alive or she knew I'd take her down. She kept backing out with House and I followed her out to the corridor. She was very tall and strong. I was praying that House wouldn't try any heroics. She kept him at an angle where I couldn't hit her without a good chance that I'd hit him. An orderly started down the hall behind me so I had to back into him and keep him from going forward. This gave her the time she needed. She pulled House to the basement exit out the back where she had parked on the lower level. They got into her car and she took off. I ran back to my car which was a five minute delay. I pulled out the GPS and plugged it into the one in my dash. I started following them. My cell phone went off. I felt on the seat for the phone while I continued to watch the GPS and drive. She was headed towards Trenton.

"What?" I yelled into the phone.

"Where are you?" Stanley asked.

"Pursuing Lilly. She's taken House hostage."

"Our ETA from Princeton is twenty minutes. Just stay where you are and we'll take over."

"He could be dead by then. Channel 12 Trenton. I'll see you when you get there." I hung up again.

I knew Stanley would be cursing me right about now. He was in a helicopter, so I figured they'd have to bring the copter with them to Trenton since there was no way to get to their cars from the helicopter without wasting precious time.

I'm a damn fast driver, especially in my sports car. I was withint two minutes of catching up with Lilly when I saw the GPS showed the car stopped in a section of Trenton known for warehouses. _What a cliché, using a warehouse. Where did theseidiots go to Spook school? Acme Academy of Spies?_

I pulled up about a half block away from the warehouse which had a well-lit alley all the warehouses opened up into. I snuck down the alley on foot and looked in the only Warehouse with lights on and the door open. House was standing with Lilly still pointing the gun at his head. She was looking frantically around. I was just about to whip around and put one in Lilly's head, when a motorcycle came down the alley shining it's lights on me and shooting. I rolled on the ground and then ran inside the warehouse.

Of course Lilly saw me do this, but all of this was enough of a distraction that House ran as fast as he could towards the opened roll-up door, not knowing he was running right into the motorcyclist who then turned his gun on House. We all stood there. The motorcyclist and Lilly with their guns trained on House and me with my gun aimed at Lilly.

The guy on the motorcycle must have been twenty-five if that. "Lilly, what's going on?" He said, looking at House and then me. He walked towards House who was apparently the only person without a gun.

"Ethan, meet Dr. House." Lilly said.

"This is House? Who's she?" he said nodding my way.

"A lawyer." Lilly said with some hesitation as to how stupid it sounded.

"A lawyer?" I'm sure he found it weird that a lawyer was standing with a gun aimed at Lilly.

Lilly said, "Long story. We've got to kill them both before Torin's guys get here."

The motorcyclist was now close enough to House that if he shot, even a bad shot, it could be lethal. I was worried about House, but he stood looking desperately at me as if I was suddenly going to burst out in song and tell him what to do. By moving a little closer to House, the motorcyclist had also narrowed the gap between himself and Lilly. I was very pleased with this development. _If I shoot, I had a good enough chance to get them both before they killed House, although, if one of them was fast enough, they might be able to take me out in the exchange. I'll just have to be faster and more accurate._

"This is the guy with all the guitars and piano?" the motorcyclist asked.

I now realized who the motorcyclist was. So this is the genius who tried to plant the Cesium in House's apartment. Now I understand why it looked so amateurish._ He's holding his gun like an idiot. And he seems familiar, like I've seen him at the hospital._

He might be the mole. A really, really stupid mole. Yuri must be desperate to be using these two geniuses.

"Yeah." Lilly said. "He's the guy with the guitars."

He wrinkled his nose at House, "I thought he'd be younger."

Lilly waved her gun at him, "Ethan, get behind him so that she doesn't have a shot at you. Where's the Cesium?"

"It's on the back of my motorcycle."

I took my cue and without my laser even being turned on, I calculated out the distance and the trajectory of my aim. Once Ethan took one more step, I could take them both out. Ethan paused and for a second I thought he might back up. But then he took another step towards House. I was in a fugue. I heard nothing, but felt the trigger ease back twice as I swung from Ethan to a visibly shocked Lilly. Her body recoiled from the bullet in her head. They both fell, blood cascading from the perfect holes, one in Ethan's temple and the other in Lilly's forehead.

House screamed, "Jesus H. Christ! You could have gotten me killed." Then he looked down at the accuracy of my shot in both of their heads, looked at me shrugging his shoulders, "Or just maybe you knew what you were doing."

I walked over and rolled the bodies to make sure they were dead. I put a bullet in each of their hearts.

House looked at me, "Damn Isibél, how dead do you want them?"

I looked at him and rolled my eyes and shook my head. Civilians. "It's not like in the movies Greg. When you take out an adversary, you make sure they're dead."

"Who are you?" He asked, almost frightened of me.

A Russian voice from the dark in the back of the warehouse said, " Isibél O'Rourke, CIA. Or didn't you know that Dr. House?"

In all the fracas, I hadn't looked for others. I blew it. What was I thinking? The voice stepped out into the light and then I saw two more men step out about fifty feet from each there.

When I saw his face, I almost vomited.

And then I almost ran to him. He shook his head, indicating for me to stay where I was. His look told me everything I needed to know. His large eyes were a steel gray with thick dark eyebrows and long lustrous eyelashes. His hair was now a wavy black and gray. His face was very symmetrical, his chin round. His nose still had that bump from the time he had his motorcycle accident. His features were fine, not heavy, for his height. He was close to 6'5" and he had put on a few pounds, but he wasn't fat. It was Pavel Yetushenko, but not the Pavel I knew. This one could kill me. I stopped in my tracks.

"You're all alone my darling, aren't you? Your little posse isn't with you. You know you shouldn't have come alone." He looked at at me and smiled, "You look still look like my lovely little Spook. Ah, but you're not my Isibél, the brilliant, spirited woman who always made me feel alive. She would never have gotten engaged to an ass like Alex Gimble. But I hear that's over now. Isibél. It's a shame you didn't keep your nose out of all of this. I don't understand why you feel you still have to be a hero. Aren't you a civilian now?" He looked at House, "Was it because of him? Are you in love with him?"

"He's a civilian, let him go. He doesn't even know what this is about. Kill me, but let him go."

He shook his head sadly, "Zaychik (bunny), you know better. I can't let either of you go. Especially now that you know I'm alive. But, thank you for taking out these two incompetent idiots. I've never seen more inept sellers in my life." He looked at the lifeless body of the motorcyclist, "That idiot killed Raven and your janitor without even cleaning up. We had to dump the body in the lake. I can't believe that The Company found him so quickly. I thought we had weighted him down well. Lucky for you they dredged the lake and the janitor up."

He obviously had more information than he should, "You know too much about what we know. Who's working with you?"

"Let's just say that we never worried about Boston, because the team in Boston are idiots. We knew that in Boston we could get the Cesium and leave. But we couldn't keep you from driving a wedge between us and our Curie. You're just too good my dear. Too bad you couldn't let Lilly have her one last grab tonight, eliminate this worthless joke of a man and leave. We almost have 20,000 Curie to fill our buyer's order. Yuri, Turon and I have a nice little Saudi willing to give us $5.0 million for it."

I almost laughed to keep from crying. The man I trusted most in my life had just betrayed me. I couldn't get a break.

In Russian, one of the other men suggested to Pavel that they should kill us and get going. I slowly walked over to House. I still had my gun in my hand. Pavel knew that they would have to kill me before I would give it up, so he didn't even ask. It's just my training.

House said, "Look, obviously you two have some personal thing going on between you. What if I just step outside and let you duke it out?"

Pavel laughed and said to me in Russian, "You pick real winners don't you? Alex dumps you when you save his ss and now this one wants to run and let you take the bullets."

I said back in Italian, "He's a civilian without a gun, how brave do you want him to be? Do you want him to grab me, throw me on the motorcycle and take off?" I was hoping House would pick up on the clue that I wanted him to make a run for the motorcycle and get out of here.

I knew that Pavel didn't understand the switch to Italian. He would assume I switched because House could understand Russian and I didn't want him to know what we were saying. Pavel shook his head in disgust, "I just expect for him to stay by your side when I kill you, that's all." Pavel snickered at the very confused Gregory House who, I could see, was now more pissed than scared.

Pavel nodded to the two men and they all pulled their guns up to aim. Just as they did there was the sound of a helicopter above us. I knew it was the crew, but they weren't going to be able to land because of the configuration of the buildings. House and I could be seen through the large door from the outside since we were only ten feet inside. But they didn't know we were being pinned down by the Russians. Because the crew couldn't land, I knew it was up to me. While the Russians were distracted by the helicopter, I pushed House so that I was in between him and the Russians and started herding him as I walked backwards towards the motorcycle. He got my drift and speeded up in that direction. Pavel stopped looking at the roof and looked me right in the eye, aimed his laser at my heart and shot. It kicked me back and hurt like hell, but the Kevlar vest stopped the bullet.

House had kicked over the motorcycle when he saw the second bullet hit me in the chest. He yelled, " Isibél!"

"Go! Go! Get out of here." I was waving at him to leave. I turned towards him waving for him to get out of the alley when a bullet hit me in the back, pushing me forward from the percussion. He gunned forward at me, steering quickly to the right and grabbing my poncho. Now I could see the helicopter and the crew shooting into the warehouse through the thin tin roof, showering it with bullets in the hopes of hitting something. They managed to hit one of the guys in the foot. But their cover gave me enough time to tell House, "Get on the back. Let me drive."

He looked at me like I was nuts. I handed him my gun and jumped on as he moved back. I put it into gear and I took off with House and the Cesium. There was a mad dash by the Russians to get into their towncar parked on the side of the warehouse. The crew couldn't see them because of the angle of the building next door. I knew it was going to be frustrating to the crew not be able to chase them by car, but they would have a better chance following them in the chopter than on the ground.

The car took off after us. House was yelling at me, "I should be driving, this is a big bike."

I didn't want to waste my energy trying to explain to him that I probably had more training and experience in evasion techniques than he had. I just kept my body low and hoped House followed my lead. The traffic was light since it was night, but I did manage to get behind a string of traffic that was being held up by a wide load vehicle. I decided to take the back roads to avoid as much traffic as I could and possible injury to civilians, so I took a right into an area with vacant fields and abandoned buildings. As I turned quickly, I could feel House almost slide off and grab me as hard as possible to right himself.

I looked in the mirror and they were barreling down. The motorcycle wasn't as fast because it was carrying two of us. But I saw a path, a shortcut through some weeds that would cut off a portion of the road and give us an extra five seconds lead if I could maneuver it right. I jumped the bike off the asphalt onto the gravel path, but skidded at first, losing the front tire to a skid and losing a few seconds that I had hoped to gain. I regained control and jumped a small ditch, coming to rest on the other side and pealing out. House held onto me and I swear I heard him laugh. We came out on off the path and back onto the asphalt. We gained a little time, but in a few minutes they were going to be on us like white on rice. I knew that the crew up in the helicopter was radioing in the local authorities to the area, but the car was catching up quickly. I heard shots. I didn't know if House had ever fired a gun in his life. But then, he was the son of a Marine so I suspected he could. "If you can, return fire." I yelled. But he couldn't hear me. "Hold on!" We took a curve and I had to put one foot down to bounce us back into the proper trajectory. I came out of the curve doing 50 mph and quickly went to 120 mph. I yelled again,"Try to shoot." He couldn't hear. We were in the straightaway and so I quickly took my left hand off the clutch and pretended to shoot with it. I grabbed the handlebar back. House understood and checked the gun to see if it was ready to shoot. I could feel him lean forward on me to keep him steady and then he turned his torso . He took aim and shot a few rounds off, causing the Russians to stop shooting for a second. I was worried about House. He was in the line of the bullet spray and he didn't have a vest on. I kept weaving to make their aim harder. Finally, I stayed straight and House aimed for a tire. I couldn't have done better. He hit it. The car started to weave before completely losing control and going off into the ditch. It nosedived vertically into a tiny creek, before landing on all four tires. The nosedive had been pretty violent and Russians don't like wearing seatbelts.

I looked back and saw the helicopter landing in a field about one hundred yards away from the Russian's car. I did a U-turn and went back, stopped the bike and told House, "Give me my gun and stay here."

He handed me my gun and said, "I'm coming with you."

"Oh, and I suppose you're going to kill them with your good looks?"

I approached the car and the driver tried to get out with his gun pointed at me. It was like shooting ducks in a barrel, I picked him off quickly. I could see Pavel sitting in the back seat, the other guy in the front passenger side appeared to be unconscious or dead, but Pavel was simply sitting in the back seat with his gun. The window in the back had been busted out.

"Pavel, throw the gun out the window or I'll kill you." I saw House start to hobble towards me. "Damn it Greg, do what I tell you. Stay back."

"You like him don't you?" Pavel said to me in Russian.

I said without any affect, "He hasn't pulled a gun on me yet. I guess that says anlot. I've built relationships on less."

"I did love you Zaychik, but the last few years have been hard, I needed the money to keep ahead of my old enemies. I'm sorry it came down to you or me."

I saw Stanley crossing the road to come towards us. Pavel picked up his gun and aimed it at me again, I shook my head at him, felt a tear come down my cheek and then took the shot. So much for my love life. But, I had one consolation. I suspect there are a lot of women who would like to be able to do what I just did to their ex.

I could tell that House was a little shell-shocked from all this gunplay. The reality was that it was the most I had ever had to fire my gun in my life. Usually when I needed to neutralize someone, it took one or two shots or I used some other method. I walked over to the car and shot Pavel again in the heart.

Stanley walked up and said, "I don't think we'll be getting much out of him, do you? I swear I didn't know he was alive or I would have told you. Yuri was the one that told me Pavel was dead. Now we know why we were fed false information."

"I've got some Cesium on the bike and Pavel admitted to us that Yuri had lined up a Saudi buyer. It's just as well he's dead; we both know that Pavel wouldn't have given you anymore than that. He would have shot himself before telling us who the buyer was. He was a traitor and he betrayed me, but he had his pride. He wouldn't have wanted to be broken by the CIA."

The police were now on the scene, but Dietler was demonstrating the might of the CIA, by taking over the crime scene. Stanley and I walked back up the ditch, past House and across to the saddlebags on the bike. House joined us. I hadn't been nervous at all until I saw the bullet hole in the saddle bag.

"Jesus. If that bullet hit one of the canisters...we could be contaminating everything as we speak."

House was angry, nervous and frustrated, he waved his arms around, "What are you talking about?"

"There's Cesium 137 in that saddle bag." I went to open it and Stanley started to stop me, concerned about more contamination. "Stanley, if the container has been breached the three of us are dead anyway." He nodded, acknowledging that I was right. I continued to open the bag. Inside was a quart lead canister, I could see from the entrance and exit holes, that the bullet had just gone over the top of the canister, but it was intact. I pulled it out and showed it to the two of them and even House looked visibly relieved.I looked at Stanley and started hugging him, he hugged me back. I reached out and grabbed House and, although he won't admit it, we had a group hug. We were laughing so loud that the rest of the team came over. After we composed ourselves, they split House and I so that they could take our statements.

It took us an hour to give our statements to the team. I couldn't help but smile occasionally.

"Why are you smiling?" Dietler finally asked.

"Because I'm going to get paid for this, but you guys will be doing all the paperwork on it for the next two weeks." When I was done, I went over and joined House.

House looked at me and at Evan's motorcycle. "Who gets the motorcycle?"

I grinned, "Well, we need to take it back to pick up my car."

He hit his chest with his fist, "I'm driving this time."

"What, don't you like my driving?" I asked.

He pulled my chin up with his finger, "You drive too fast."

"You're alive aren't you?" I said.

"We need to talk about that. Who are you?" His face was inquisitive, just inches from mine. His breath was warm and I was having a hard time hearing his words when all I wanted was him to either kiss me or back. He knew he was bothering me because his face got closer and, though I didn't want to, I closed my eyes. His lips grazed mine ever so slightly. I opened my eyes and saw him straighten up. He grabbed my hand and we went back over to the bike. He got on first and I got on behind him, then we took a much more leisurely trip back to the warehouse. When we got back to the warehouse the place was cordoned off and crawling with FBI and CIA agents. I had to get permission to get my car. I went over and looked it over.

"Damn it, damn Pavel, damn him." I was so mad, so pissed.

"What's eating you?"

"My car...it has two bullet holes!"

He came over to look. He jerked a fist into his side as motion of triumph, "Cool! I didn't think that anyone would believe me. Now I'll just show them your car!"

"It's not funny!"

He grabbed me up in his arms and smothered my mouth with his, his tongue slipping into my mouth for a rather lusty kiss. He smiled into my lips, "You're alive. It's a car. We're okay." He paused and raised his eyebrows, "What happens to the motorcycle?"

"For God's sake ride the thing back to my apartment. I'll do some fiddling and you'll get the title in the mail. Does that work for you?" I was annoyed and pissed.

"I'll show you how grateful I am at home."

I stood there and looked at him with my fist on my hip and my eyebrows knitted together, "Excuse me? You couldn't go out on a date with me tonight because you needed to go gild the Lilly. You thought having a nice screw would be more fun that taking me out. One thing you'll discover about me, I have a great memory. So, excuse me, Big Boy, I have to go home and change the bulb between my legs."

House visibly cringed, remembering what he had told Lily. "It was just talk. I knew I had made her jealous over you and so I just wanted to make her feel good."

"I see, you wanted poor Lilly to feel good about herself when she but a bullet through that stupid, misogynist head of yours?"

There was a slight look of panic on his face, "Oh come on, you can't hold the sex against me. I've been seeing her for two years."

"You're right, but you don't expect me to go home and take sloppy seconds?"

"Look, Mount Gregory needs hikers." He saw I wasn't impressed with his explanation. He wiped his brow, seeing his chance of scoring slipping away.

I started to take pity on him. He looked like someone who was watching his dreams turn to nightmares. "We have a date tomorrow night. You better keep it." I opened the door to the car and drove home. We pulled up in the driveway and we both walked up to the door. I opened it and something didn't feel right. I had my gun in my hand and pulled it up, cupping it with my left hand.

House started to say something, "What are you..."

I put my finger to my mouth to silence him and walked through the apartment, I kicked open the door to my bedroom and a figure in my bed moved. I put my gun down. House and I stood there staring at Alex under my sheets, probably naked. He smiled at me and then his smile dropped when he saw House behind me. I have to admit, part of me wanted to run and crawl into his arms and let him cradle me. He, above all, understood how painful it was in this business when someone you chose to trust betrayed you. But that photographic memory of our last few weeks together, his coldness, his behavior that triggered the cascade of events and my departure from The Company, all came back to me in a flash.

"Alex, what are you doing here?"

House joined in, "You're on my side of the bed."

I turned and gave House a look that told him the next bullet would be in his head.

"Isibél, can we talk alone?" Alex asked.

I looked at House, "Greg, can you let us be alone?"

"No. Don't forget this is the guy you broke up with."

I chuckled, "Believe me, I know that only too well. Now go out and watch some television."

"I better not hear, "Jesus" come out of your mouth." He turned and went into the living room.

I took off my poncho and vest and then closed the door, "Alex, this isn't your apartment and I would appreciate it if you would stop walking in like you own it."

He nodded and then patted the bed next to him. I sat down on the edge. He rubbed my arm and then looked up into my eyes with his steel gray gaze, " Isi, I heard from Stanley what you did for me. I know I blew it and I know I screwed things up for both of us. I just saw all those years of hard work go down the drain. I'm sorry, very, very sorry. I want to try to work on this relationship. I want you to marry me, as soon as possible, tomorrow if we can find a state that will let us."

I let out a brief laugh, "I don't think I'll be getting married; I have a date tomorrow." The image of House and I on a date came to mind. "I love you, I really love you." I paused to look at the handsome, prematurely gray man laying in my bed. "But, tonight I had to kill Pavel," I saw his jaw drop and his eyes widen in shock. He sat up straight withthis news. "Right now I don't trust men or feel like marrying any of them."

"Please don't say no. Just tell me you have to think about it. Think about what we had and how much we enjoyed each other."

"But Alex, we were both in The Company and working on The Farm. Our relationship revolved around that. I wonder if the relationship would have survived if we hadn't been CIA?"

"Of course it would have. We have a lot in common."

"I wish I were as sure as you."

"Don't say no. Give yourself a few weeks to think about it and then let me know. I'm willing to wait for a long time"

I was tired and I wanted to sleep, "Okay."

"Now what is House doing here? I thought the whole case broke tonight."

"It did, but I'm still responsible to make sure he stays off the Vicodin."

Alex looked at me as if he was interrogating a prisoner, "Is he your date tomorrow?"

I saw no reason to lie, "Yes."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

I laughed, "Yes, but we haven't had sex yet."

He looked confused, but he let it go. "Would you like to have a little fun now? I'm all dressed up for it." He smiled at me and then revealed that he was naked.

Sex sounded good to me. But it seemed a little tactless to make love to one man while your future date sat in the living room. "No, I think you need to go back to D.C."

His face registered a deep sadness that broke my heart. I think he knew at that point that it was over. He got up dressed and I walked him to the door. As we went through the living room he looked at House, "Be kind to her, she's had some bad luck with men." He kissed me and left.

I came back in and House, smiling from ear to ear, was about to say something. "Greg, I'm warning you, this is one time you need to keep your comments to yourself. The sofa bed is yours. Tonight I'm sleeping alone."

I cried all night long as I mourned over Pavel. I didn't feel guilty that I killed him, but I felt sad that he was gone. It felt like a wound had been opened. I had already mourned him for so long that this actually felt like a relief. I knew he was dead now, there were no ifs or buts, the love of my life was dead.

**Ladies and Gentlemen, I had a major problem today. My computer crashed, but luckily I had emailed this story, or at least 90 of it, to a friend. Unfortunately, I have to reformat it and that take a long time. HOWEVER, I LEAVE FOR PERU TOMORROW. So I am giving you a huge chapter as a going away present. Please leave comments! Thanks. See you in 16 days.**


	16. Chapter 12

**Thanks for your patience in waiting for the story. We were forced to stay an extra five days in Peru because my husband lost his Green Card (he's British.) Please leave comments when you can! Thanks.**

CHAPTER 12

IS THERE A MAN IN THE HOUSE?

She got up in the morning around nine and could smell coffee brewing. The door to Isibél's bedroom swung open and House brought in a steaming cup. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and said, "Thanks, but I don't like coffee."

"I know that. It's tea with a little milk only."

She smiled at him, "You are observant. Thanks."

He went back out and brought his cup back and climbed on top of the bed. He looked at her, "Where do you want to go tonight?"

Her face registered frustration. She hated when a man asked her that, especially on the first date. She made decisions all week long and just wanted someone to make them for her. She whined, "Greg, I don't know Princeton or what there is to do."

He held up a hand, "Hey, you don't have to whine. I have some ideas, I just didn't want you to come back and tell me you had hoped we would go horseback riding withme holding you in my arms as we galloped around Lake Carnegie."

"Well, I was hoping that you would at least pick me up on your white horse."

They both chuckled. "You don't have to get too dressed up, the Dan Bradley Jazz Band is playing at the Lahiere's. We can have dinner and stay for the music, Dan doesa pretty good job. Plus you can talk over the music, it's not too loud."

"Why would I want to talk to you?" She snuggled closer to him, "What time are you picking me up?" She grinned.

"I'll knock on your door at 7:00 pm, okay?"

She nodded.

"Oh, and tonight you tell me what the hell happened yesterday. Okay?"

"Yeah, I will. I better call Cuddy and tell her to book a new MRI repair company and hire a new janitor, your lookout is dead."

House was taken back, "Tariq was the janitor they were talking about?"

"Yeah."

He felt guilt for getting the kid involved, but then put it in the back of his mind, "I have to go somewhere with Wilson today. I'll be back later." With the voice of a ten year old he said, "Don't forget my new motorcycle."

"Yeah, yeah."

During the day, Isibél obtained the VIN number off the motorcycle and traced it back to the dead guy who was stealing the Cesium. She transferred title through the NJ Department of Motor Vehicles. She knew it was stealing and that it was "wrong" technically. But considering what they put House and her through, she figured House was owed a motorcycle and would easily get a judgment for one. It was a 2006 Harley Sportster 1000cc and too big for her to use daily, so House might as well have it.

House drove over to Wilson's hotel and parked his motorcycle. They switched to Wilson's car. Wilson looked at House, "Well, did you do anything last night?"

"I got into a car chase and gun battle with some Russians over some missing Cesium-137 from Radiology and my new girlfriend killed my old one. She also took out my old girlfriend's boyfriend and her old boyfriend too."

"Yeah, my evening was boring too." Wilson said.

House chuckled, "Okay, but when you find out that Tariq the janitor is dead, and that the MRI tech, Lilly, the one that I was banging, is dead, maybe you'll believe me."

Wilson scrunched up his forehead and looked at his friend who had an air of frivolity and wasn't sure what to make of him. "I'll bite. If the old girlfriend was Lilly, who's the new one? Tiffany Neuburger?"

"No, the boring b!tch herself, Isibél. Except she's way more interesting than I thought. She's CIA."

"House, are you back on the Vicodin?"

"No. And who told Isibél about my Lupus text book stash?"

"She found four vials in your office. Is that all of it?"

House remained quiet. He turned to look at the road, "So, three bedrooms and a view of Lake Carnegie?"

"Yeah, it's 2300 square feet, big enough for the two of us to have some room. It has an office downstairs with a full bathroom. I figure the office could be your bedroom. It has a family room off of the kitchen, a dining and living room combination and two big bedrooms upstairs. I figure one for me and the other we could turn into an office or guest room. It has a patio, swimming pool and outdoor stereo. And there's a utility room for a washer and dryer.'

"Whoa, a utility room? Now you've sold me."

Wilson looked at House, "Are you sure about this?"

"The real question is whether you're sure about it? You know how moody I get, piano at odd times of night, drinking until I pass out on the couch, snoring loudly. Are you sure?"

"Well, it's only a year lease. If we can't hack it together, you or I can move out.

But are you sure you want to give up your old apartment?"

"I'm being evicted anyway. The landlord told me he's going to convert the apartments to condos and sell them."

"Why don't you buy it?"

"It's one thing to rent the place, but if I buy something, I want more luxuries. Besides, he's asking too much for them."

House and Wilson got out at the two story home. As they walked down the sidewalk leading to the front door, on their left was a wing with french doors leading into an office; the office that would be House's bedroom. "If you used the office as your bedroom, you'd have your own private entrance through those french doors." Wilson took out a key and opened the door, "That's the inside entrance to the office or bedroom and this is a full bathroom." The bathroom was right next to the office. "I know the bathroom is not as big as the one you have now, but just think, you get all of the house for less than what you're paying now."

"Is that a jacuzzi tub?" House asked.

"Yeah, all the bathrooms have one, except the half bath off the family room."

House thought Wilson sounded like a realtor and wondered if his ex-wife had shown him properties. The foyer had marble tile and then a step down into the living room that also had a dining area with chandelier and a view of the lake. There was a kitchen on the other side of the dining wall along with a rather large family room that opened up onto a huge brick patio that surrounded a lovely built-in pool. There was a stairway off the family room, a utility room and half bath next to the utility room. The family room had tile on the floor that, with a flick of a switch, could be heated in the winter.

House went into the office and agreed that it was bigger than his current bedroom. The floors were a Brazilian Mahogany, the same as in the living and dining room. There were two sets of french doors. One leading to the outside and the one from the interior was a single french door. House liked the idea of having a door to the outside. He had also noted that there was a three car garage.

"Want to go upstairs?" Wilson asked. "It's all carpeted so I'm sure the sound is pretty muffled. Besides there's nothing over your bedroom except the landing to the stairs. What do you think?"

House had made a vow to himself and his therapist to stop being such a hermit. By living with Wilson, he'd be forced to interact on a social level with humans. Wilson often dated and had lots of family that lived in the area. House knew that they would probably have company from time to time.

"Yeah, I'm in."

"So, you giving notice?" Wilson asked.

"I don't have to. They gave me notice, I have to be out by the end of month."

Wilson laughed and knew he had just been had. House had been egging him to move out and get a place for the last six weeks, " Get a big place so you can have parties and enjoy life." Wilson realized he was just doing House's leg work. It cracked him up.

House looked at his laughing friend, but kept a straight face, "The movers will pack me out and deliver my things August 2nd."

That caused Wilson to howl with laughter. He should have been angry, but he was always amused with how House could manipulate any situation to his benefit. There were so many times his friend should have been caught or punished for something he had done or said, but House skated. Usually because of his brains, often because of his friends, sometimes out of just dumb luck. But he always skated. And yet, no matter how many times he got away with something, House was still a miserable human being.

Wilson nodded, "Good thing we'll have the key on the first then."

They went for lunch and then played pool for a few hours. It was 5:00 pm when House pulled up at the apartment. He took out his key and opened the door thinking about their upcoming date. He was excited about it, a little nervous too. He had been living with her for several weeks and was amazed as to how fast they had developed their own routines. He knew she slept on the left side of her bed; she took her shoes off as soon as possible when she came through the door; and, she liked to read Entertainment magazines. He thought she looked the sweetest when she was just out of the shower, no makeup and all wet. She liked to play games and she loved science fiction movies. She sang a lot when she didn't think anyone was listening. Her voice was pretty, but for some reason she was embarrassed about her singing. He was starting to get used to her rhythm, the time she would go to bed, the time she would get up, when she liked to eat, when she would take a shower. He found her rather easy to live with, but then, he hadn't had one of his famous moods since being out of rehab. Just give it time. He'd frighten her away like all the others. _Still, Isibél wasn't as boring as I thought_.

He went inside and looked around, she wasn't in the living room or kitchen. He went back and heard the shower running. There was a dressand some of the mostdelicate lingerie he had ever seen laid out on the bed. The panties were a boys tap pants, but made of black Spanish lace that turned into scarlet red satin in the crotch and back. The bra was a demi-bra with scarlet red satin cups and straps edged with black Spanish lace that matched the panties. He heard the shower stop and so he hobbled out to the living room so she wouldn't know he had seen what she was going to wear. Women liked to make an entrance.

She toweled down and then put on a short bath robe. She wandered out into the hall and heard that the television was on. She walked down the hall and was all grins. She was a little excited too.

"Greg? I'm done with the shower but I need to get back in to do my hair. Do you want to grab your shower now?"

"Shower, am I suppose to take a shower?" he teased her.

She giggled like a schoolgirl, "Well?"

"Yeah, I'll sneak in and do my thing."

"Well, I know your thing, it take twenty minutes. So get yourself in there."

He grabbed some clothes from his knapsack in the closet and headed into the bathroom. He didn't trim his beard because he didn't want it to be too scratchy tonight. He jumped into the shower and cleaned up, singing, "Under My Thumb."

Isibél put on her underwear and sat down at her dressing table to put on some makeup. She put it on just a little heavier than usual for night. She sprayed Obsession on and then slipped herself into her dress. She straightened it out and then heard House turn off the light in the bathroom and walk out to the living room. She snuck into the bathroom and worked on blow-drying her hair down. It fell just below her shoulders and was quite a nice shade of blonde, with natural highlights. She frowned as she picked a few gray hairs and plucked them from her head.

House watched television and poured himself some Johnny Walker Black Label. He was nursing it when he heard footsteps come down the hall. He turned around, saw her and froze. She was gorgeous. The floral dress came to a few inches above her knees, exposing her thin, shapely legs. It had little cap sleeves that made her look young and sweet. The two and a half inch sandals displayed her lovely feet with the red painted toenails. Her hair was down, but she had pushed it behind her ears exposing her tiny earlobes with the jade dangling earrings. He got up and whistled at her. She curtsied, showing off the deep cleavage of the dress.

"Why don't we just stay in?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

She chuckled. It was the response she was hoping to get. The excitement of the last few weeks had stimulated something inside her, made her feel alive again. The exciting Isibél was emerging from her deep slumber. As they were leaving and House was watching the sway of her hips under the filmy skirt of her dress, he felt things he hadn't felt in a long time. He knew he was in trouble.

"Let's take my car. You can drive."

They put the top down on the sports car and House pushed the seat back, adjusted the mirrors and gunned the engine. The car drove like a dream. When they got to the restaurant, he had the valet park it.

The valet whistled and motioned for his buddies to come over, "Whoa, this is a hot car. I've never seen this make. We're going to put it right up front so everyone can appreciate it." House shrugged, not letting him know it belonged to Isibél. "Gee mister, you've got a cool wife if she let you buy this car."

House looked at Isibél and chuckled, "Thanks. My wife loves big powerful engines with a nice piston and good strokes."

The valet smiled broadly at Isibél. She just turned to him, "I'm not his wife, she's at home."

The kids mouth opened wide as he gawked at her in shock.

House put his arm around her shoulders and she put hers around his waist. The feel of his arm on her bare skin was nice. "You have a lot of explaining to do." House wanted to find out what was behind the firefight the night before. He was still somewhat wired from the event.

The waiter checked their reservations and showed them to their table in the bar area which had a nice view of the stage, but wasn't too close that they would have to yell to talk. Lahiere's is an interesting mixture of white table cloths, bistro curtains and a bar with a "wine cellar" brick facade. Their table had a leather bench next to the brick wall which they sat on side by side so that Isibél could have her back to the wall. When they brought out the menus the waiter took the drink order. Isibél ordered a Mojito while House ordered a Martini.

Isibél looked at House. He looked nicer than usual. The shirt was open at the collar but it wasn't wrinkled. It was a light, butter yellow under his navy blue sports coat and tan slacks. He was quite presentable and she appreciated his effort to clean up.

He leaned forward and said, "Now, you owe me an explanation for yesterday. Who are you and what did I get myself into?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you because there is an active investigation going on, but let me have a Mojito or two and I might just let you lure it out of me." As if on cue, the waiter brought their drinks and they toasted each other. She changed the subject, "Greg, are you sure you want to go through with the operation?"

"I'm not exactly enamored with the idea, but I don't see anything new in the near future to help deal with the pain. I need the help now. Without the Vicodin, I'm going tobe in a lot of pain. Bordeaux is already increasing the level of the nerve blocks."

"Cuddy told me that there is a component of the pain that is psychological."

He pulled back and looked off to the side while laughing and shaking his head, "She told you about the placebo?" He saw Isibél nod. "I guess. I don't like to admit it, but I didn't do too well when Stacey left the second time. I guess the physical pain I thought I was having was a way of coping with the psychological pain of losing her."

She was cautious, she hoped that House had learned to trust her enough to share, "Are you sorry you let her go?"

House hesitated, unsure whether to ask himself that question. He tried not to think about Stacey, it just hurt too much. Stacey had made him feel sane, almost normal. She had understood him, at least for awhile. "We we re good for each other the first three years of our relationship. I didn't mean to, but I started to spend more time on my work, retreat into my journals and music. I think I did it because I could sense that she was pulling away from me too. I couldn't be the involved man she wanted me to be. I wish I could have given her as much of me as she needed, but I couldn't and it depressed her."

"What about the leg? I thought it was the reason that you two broke up?"

"Yes and no. I did blame her. Not for the leg, but for not trusting me to know what I was doing and what I really wanted. It felt like she was discounting my knowledge as a doctor, my abilities; the thing that makes me who I am. If I had been in an auto accident and completely out of it, then I wouldn't have blamed her for the decision she made. But she knew what I wanted. It was obvious that she didn't respect my opinion over the idiots who had mis-diagnosed me in the first place. When it first happened, it looked like the leg was going to bring us together. We hadn't been doing well for at least a year but when I was hospitalized she was right there, supporting me, staying by me. I started to think that I needed to make some changes to accommodate the relationship. But, when she authorized the operation, it just made me realized that she didn't really know me or she would have known how important is was that she trust my decision."

Isibél was quiet while he talked, absorbing what he had to say. She thought about Alex and how unhappy she was when he started to disrespect her at work, how she had made a huge sacrifice to leave The Company, only to have it thrown back in her face. She understood how House must have felt. She reached across and grabbed his hand. Her fingers seemed so tiny next to his long fingers. She squeezed his hand and smiled to let him know she understood. She was a little self-conscious because he just kept staring at her hand holding his. But she didn't pull hers back. After a painful pause, he gave her hand a slight squeeze back.

The waiter interrupted and asked them if they would like another drink. They both said yes. Isibél pulled her hand back and took a drink. "Do you miss her?"

"Yes. But after our last time together, I realized that I could never make her happy. She needs more attention than I'm capable of giving. The fact that I know it was the right decision makes pushing her away easier to take, knowing I did the right thing rather than the selfish thing. That's something I'm not known for doing." He took a drink, "What about you and this Pavel? Are you ready to tell me what was going on yesterday?"

She was more than ready. He had been so candid, she felt the need to reciprocate. "Greg, I was a CIA operative overseas for six years until I fell in love with Pavel." She told him about their affair and his supposed death when he returned. "In the meantime an agent for MI6 was upset that I was working with a Russian spy and even more upset to find out I was in love with him. He thought this would compromise everything I had worked on while in London and that I would spill my guts to Pavel about it. He exposed me to the Chinese, Libyan, Pakistanis, Syrians and just about anyone who would be interested. It meant I was no longer effective in the field so they brought me in as a Political Analyst for the operatives, I still got to play a little at being a spy, but it wasn't my full time job."

"What happened to the agent for MI6?"

"The idiot almost got me killed. After I discovered that it was him who outed me, I showed up one day in a café in Germany where he was exchanging information with an informant and went over, kissed him on the cheek and sat down at his table. The Russians, Germans and Syrians were watching me by this time and that very act blew his cover too." She gave him an evil smile.

"You know, you're scary. I saw you kill those people yesterday and you did it like..." He sat back and looked away for a second trying to figure out how he wanted to say it.

"...a pro?" she suggested.

"Yeah, a pro. Like you were out of your body, a machine. No one in their right mind could look at you now and believe that you could be that detached. I have to admit, despite the fact that she almost killed me, I felt a little twinge when you killed Lilly. I mean, we had shared lots of laughs and orgasms over the last two years. It seemed surreal, that bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead."

"You know the CIA will send you to a counselor to deal with that. We can't let you go to someone outside The Company, so they'll arrange for you to see someone who has an association with The Company."

"I don't need a shrink, I need answers. Why did she want to kill me?"

While House had been out with Wilson, Isibél had attended a debriefing of the mission. She thought and sifted what she could share with House. "Ah, you have a reputation for having a big mouth. I'd share with you if I knew you could keep it quiet."

"Believe me, I know what's good for me. I've seen how The Company deals with unsavory people. I'll keep this to myself."

Isibél knew he'd share it with Wilson, so she gave him the bare bones, "Dr. Raven discovered that over 1,000 Curie of Cesium-137 had gone missing from the hospital over the last three years. Well, when we did the calculations, the first year actually barely fell outside the norm for inaccurate measurements. In other words, it might have been just sloppy measuring by the staff. Had we known that before, we would have concentrated on just the last two years and probably found your girlfriend sooner. It was your girlfriend taking the Cesium. She was using having sex with you as a cover for all the time she spent in the department. Let's face it, you were typically in and out of Radiology within forty-five minutes, not a very long time. She usually stayed another forty-five to get the Cesium. She also wanted a patsy and you were it. Ethan planted some Cesium in your closet, which is why the building really was evacuated. We had to clean up your apartment. Tariq was killed because he could lead them all back tonyou and her. He probably also caught her where she wasn't suppose to be. Who knows?"

He looked down, trying to absorb this. Then he made eye contact and asked,"How did this Pavel show up if he was suppose to be dead?"

"It turns out that he didn't actually go back to Russia, but joined forces with Yuri to turn Rogue. He and Yuri Belyakova have spent the last eight years doing backroom deals with whoever needed their services. I guess Pavel made a few bad deals and really needed this one to go through or he'd be swimming with the fishes. It hurt to know that he could pull the trigger on me. But, besides needing that Cesium, he was the jealous type, hated Alex and was more than ready to kill me so that no one could have me. Men are strange creatures."

"Don't worry, I don't mind sharing. I won't be pistol whipping anyone too soon. I'm actually thinking of joining some rabid gun control group. I've had enough people taking pot shots at me over the last few years. Now, come to think of it, you seem to know how to handle a gun. Strike me down if I'm wrong, but something tells me you've shot one before. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that some people have been on the wrong end of your gun, Calamity."

"Your point?"

"You still work for the CIA, right? You'll be leaving to go back to the Farm, right?"

She was rather upset by his suggestion that she go back to Washington D.C. Her voice went up an octave, "Do you want me to go back to Washington?"

House thought he had simply stated the obvious, instead he had just stuck his foot in it. "But Cuddy told me she thought you'd be leaving, going back to Washington, that your talents lie there." He reached out with his hand to grab hers, "It just seems logical from what she said and what you did yesterday. You're CIA, came to PPTH because of the Cesium and will be going back. She told me not to get involved with you because you'd probably be leaving." He could see she was confused and upset. He rubbed her fingers and watched her stare off and think about all of it. "I don't want you to go back, but you told me you're CIA."

She looked up and realized he was still in the dark and it was time for her to explain. "I'm not anymore. I fell in love with Alex and we got engaged. He worked under me, but Alex had trouble adjusting to the idea that I had excelled where he hadn't. He was acting out so they were going to fire him. I quit so he could keep his job, he lived for his job, I didn't."

"You quit the CIA over a man's ego?" his voice was incredulous and his face was all scrunched up. "You're the cold blooded killer with a heart?"

"I kill when someone threatens the security of my country. I'm not cold blooded, I'm just trained well. I have a heart... sometimes too big of one."

He saw she was annoyed at him for pointing out her past. He started snickering, "Did you know a person uses approximately 57 sheets of toilet paper each day?"

Her forehead wrinkled and her eyes squinted, then she realized he was just trying to make her laugh. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand again. "Did you know that the original name for the butterfly was "flutterby"?"

He looked amused, patted her hand and sat back to order dinner. The conversation turned to less serious matters. He talked about his days in a band, how

they would all go for dinner afterwards and how they frequently ended up running out of restaurants because they couldn't pay the bill. She told him of how she was recruited by the CIA after she entered an amateur shooting contest. She was so accurate, one of the judges immediately cornered her, found out she was about to graduate from law school and asked her if she would like to serve her country.

"Since my father hated the government, it seemed to be the answer to all my prayers. I could piss off my Dad and travel all over the world working for my country. I tended to be much more patriotic than anyone else in my family and that drove my father crazy."

"Why did you hate Daddy so much?"

"Because Daddy killed Mommy."

"What?"

"My father got drunk at a dinner party, had a fight with my mother, got into our car to drive home and when my mother ran out to try and stop him, he backed over her. Grant you, it wasn't on purpose, but it didn't matter. My mother took two days to die and my father never went to see her in the hospital. He got off too. He was a big time doctor and the police didn't do a breathalyzer. It was ruled an accident and everyone pitied him except the four people who had been at the dinner party. The woman who gave the party was my friend's mother and I heard her talking to her husband about the so-called accident. That's when I found out what really happened. I was thirteen and confronted my father. He didn't deny it. In fact, he had a drink and ignored me. So, why did Daddy give you ice baths?"

House pulled his head back in surprise, "How do you know about my father?"

"The Company."

"It started when I was ten with the Marine Corps Birthday. We were going to the celebration on base. My father had arranged for me to recite the speech for cutting the cake at the party. He had me rehearse the speech over and over to the point where I can still remember it today."

Isibél looked at him and with eyes wide open and a huge grin said, "Come on, don't hold back. Recite it for me."

House cleared his throat: "The Marine Corp's birthday cake-cutting ceremony is important to all Marines, as it is an annual renewal of each Marine's commitment to the Corps and the Corps'commitment to our nations quest for peace and freedom worldwide. The birthday cake is traditionally cut with the Mameluke sword, as a reminder that we are a band of warriors, committed to carrying the sword, so that our nation may live in peace. The Mameluke sword gets its name from the cross hilt andivory grip design, similar to swords used for centuries by Ottoman warriors. The Marine Corps tradition of carrying this sword dates from Lieutenant Presley O'Bannon's assault of Derna, Tripoli, in 1805, where he is said to have won the sword of the governor of the city. I gave the rest of the speech, ending with: This ceremony will take place in combat zones, on ship and bases all around the world, thereby revealing our unity as Marines to all who attend. We are one, you see. Brothers and Sisters who wear a uniform with a symbol, a symbol of fear and of hope to others, a symbol of strength and fighting spirit, a symbol of unity among brethren, a symbol of patriotism, of freedom and a symbol that if we never give up, never say quit, that all before us can be overcome. A symbol of liberty. That symbol is the Eagle, Globe and Anchor that we as Marines earned the hard way. A symbol that has no meaning without the hearts and souls of those behind it who gave to us many, many decades ago, and who dared us to pick it up and take up the challenge they offered. Keep America free. I turned to my Dad after the speech and asked with contempt, "Dad do you Marines really believe all this hogwash?" I had gone from being the darling of the crowd to a huge disappointment. Marines take their Birthday really seriously. My Dad got drunk and when we got home, the ice bath was given."

"Your Mom?"

"She begged my Dad to let me out of the tub, but he didn't."

"Well, you see that's why I have a gun. No man says no to me."

They both chuckled. When the dinner came, she could only eat half of hers and so he ate the rest. "No sense asking for a doggy bag, you don't own a dog." He told her as he grabbed her plate and finished the filet mignon. She watched him take great pleasure in eating and thought to herself that he was a true alpha dog without a pack, or at least a very big pack. Maybe he just saw the world as his pack. She liked to see him eat. He'd take a bite and then look around. Sometimes he would say something interesting about the club or the band. The had a great view and a secure one. Isibél had warned House that he needed to make sure that she was seated with her back to the wall, looking out at the crowd as dictated in CIA training. He thought it was funny, but he knew she was serious. There were moments when he would look up from eating, still chewing and smile at her seductively.

_He's so damn attractive and sexy when he does that. I wonder if he does this to all the women he goes out with? But then I just may be really susceptible tonight. For the last three weeks, we've been dancing around sex and it's getting harder for both of us not to do something about it. But, he's already scratched his itch with Lilly and maybe the itch isn't as bad for him. I've got to be careful. Gregory House is the kind you date, enjoy, but don't fall in love with if you don't want your heart broken. I'm a civilian now and I want what civilians have: love, marriage, children and I'm not going to get that from Dr. House. If he didn't marry Stacey, he won't be walking down the aisle with me._

The music was better than Isibél expected. She wasn't a big jazz fan and so she really wasn't expecting to enjoy the music. It turned out that they did a lot of torch songs from the forties and pieces she knew and enjoyed. She was singing along with quite a few of them. Greg was playing air piano through half of them. She could tell he was enjoying the show and he could tell she was too. Their mutual pleasure made the evening even more rewarding. When the music was over Isibél was both sad and excited. As they left the club, Isibél could feel her heart begin to quicken in anticipation of being with Greg.

_This is ridiculous, I'm nervous. I don't get nervous on dates. I've been with a lot of men and I don't get nervous. I need to breath and center myself. I feel like I'm going to Disneyland. How ridiculous. He's just a man...yeah, keep thinking that song, "...and I've had so many men before, in very many ways, he's just one more..."_

House was trying not to smile all the way home. He was thinking of her breasts and pink erect nipples and it was beginning to get to him. He picked up his speed a little. He teased her a little about her singing. "Yeah, you kept singing all night. It reminded me of Rosanne Barr singing the National Anthem at the Padres Game."

She looked at him and he could tell he had nicked her pride. He was only teasing, her voice was really very nice and sometimes her voice sounded better than the female singer they had with the band.

"Gee thanks. I'll remember to keep my day job."

"You know I'm just pulling your chain. You sing well. I mean that."

"You just want sex."

"That too."

She threw back her head, grinned and shook it, "You are so romantic."

"What if I tell you that I haven't had this much fun with a woman in a long time?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Well, I said, "what if", I didn't say I meant it."

"Ewww. You're getting close to home, I'd suggest you better be nice if you don't want to be sleeping on a sofa bed."

"Okay, so far I've had a lot of fun."

"Me too, jerk."

"Watch your tongue or you won't get any of mine." He said with a fake sincerity.

Isibél gave a nervous laugh and House looked at her. "Are you nervous?"

Her voice wavered, "No, of course not. I hate to break the news to you, but you're not my first."

"Damn, I was sure you were a virgin." He shook his head, "I'm afraid it's over. I only sleep with virgins."

"For the right amount of money, I can be a virgin...again." she said.

House laughed outloud. He pulled into the garage and they got out and went in through the kitchen door. She put her purse down and kicked off her shoes. "Want something to drink?"

"I think I've had enough tonight." He said nothing more, did nothing more. He just watched her. He was enjoying seeing the unflappable Isibél O'Rourke nervous. She pushed her hair behind her ear and balanced herself on one foot, trying to smile. She turned and went into the bathroom, closed the door and brushed her teeth. When she was done, she grabbed the sides of the sink and told herself to breath. She put in her diaphragm, took one deep breath and opened the door. He was standing by the door.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, surprised by his presence.

"Mind if I use the restroom?"

She quickly stepped out of his way, "Oh, sure!"

While he was in the bathroom, Isibél turned on some music. She didn't know if she should strip or not so she sat, shifting into different positions, trying to determine which pose was the most seductive. When she looked up she blushed red, he had been standing in the doorway watching her.

"I like that one." He said of the position she had taken.

"You punk. I don't know what it is. I guess it's because you aren't part of my job. This is for pure pleasure. At least I hope it's a pleasure. But I guess I'm all thumbs right now."

He came over and sat down next to her, put a hand on her knee and looked into her eyes. "I'll be gentle."

That made them both roar with laughter. She fell back on the bed, holding her stomach. He made his move and leaned down to kiss her. She stopped laughing and watched as his lips came close and then covered hers. She could taste the toothpaste and Scope, smell the aftershave and the coconut shampoo. There was also a note of pure Greg, a musky one that sent just the right signals to the right places that this was a man kissing her. His excitement was building too fast so he started thinking about playing a difficult piece on the piano. She would shift and his entire body would respond to her softness and body moving under his. He switched back to the piano piece, F sharp, D, D, A, C, F sharp... She grabbed him around the neck and ran her hands through his hair. His mind switched to the feel of her hands in his hair, his tongue in her mouth, the warmth of her body under his. He realized that they still had to get through the reveal of the lingerie and that was going to be difficult for him to keep from spilling the beans. He had imagined her in it all night long, causing slight erections as he sat listening to the music. She started undoing his shirt and then the buckle on his trousers. He didn't dare touch the breasts, not even through the dress. He helped take his shirt and trousers off by sitting up and pulling his shoes and socks off, standing up and letting the trousers fall. She was still laying back on the bed, looking beautiful and calmer. She looked at his erection under the boxers and smiled. He laid back down and said, "Undress for me."

She knew how to undress for a man. She stood up and took it slow and deliberate. She reached around, thrusting her breasts out and grabbed the zipper and pulled it down. She slowly let the dress drop to the floor. House knew he was in trouble. The breasts filled the demi-cup and overflowed at the top, evealing the white upper half of her breasts. The panties rode up slightly in the back the black lace hugged her hips with her pubic hair being hidden elicately behind the red satin. She hadn't bothered to wear nylons, it was too hot.

She walked over to him and said, "help me out of this." She turned around, facing away from him, to let him undo her bra, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist bringinghis hand up to feel them from behind. The act of feeling them without seeing them was very erotic. He sat up and undid the strap and as the bra opened, falling to the sides, he reached around and felt her breasts and nipples. The breasts were soft and the nipples hard. He pinched them and leaned his head against her back to concentrate on the touch. He brought his hands down her side and rested them on the lace of her panties. He reached around with both hands to the front and let his fingers dive into the satin. He pulled her closer, moaning ever so softly. He began taking the panties off. He leaned forward and bit the top of her bottom, ever so lightly. He turned her around to see her completely naked, her ribs just barely showing, her breasts full and luscious. He crawled up to the pillows, pulling her arm with him. She crawled too.

They reached the top together and he reached over where he had placed acondo m. He wasn't going to be able to pleasure her yet, he wouldn't make it. He needed a release and then he could turn his attention to her. He pulled one of her pillows down and placed it under her hips. She undid the wrap of the condom with her teeth and dressed him. Her fingers were so light and fast that they felt like a feather on him, making him shudder. He pushed her legs apart, looked at her pink and glistening, took a deep breath while crawling on top of her. He guided himself in and let out the breath. She was tight, wet and warm. It was a lethal combination. He kept playing piano in his head, but she twisted slightly and then used her muscles to clamp and release in time to the pounding music and his thrusts. He started pounding in beat with the music. He could feel the music, her muscles, the warmth. He grabbed the pillow by her hair and he scrunched his face as he exploded over and over. It felt like he was going to come all night until it became too painful. He started breathing again, his heart pounding and his head fuzzy from the climax. He had to blink his eyes to see again.

"Jesus." He said quietly. "Damn, that was ..." He didn't finish, he just fell over to the side and tried to control his breathing, which was fast and furious.Isibél loved how his rhythm matched hers and the music. It had made the experience even more exciting. She watched his chest rise and fall as he tried to control his breathing. She placed her hand on his chest to feel his heart as it raced. He took the hand, picked it up, rolled her slightly and then kissed her belly button, His mouth continued down her abdomen and into the dark blonde pubic hair. He used both hands to expose her. His tongue, warm and flat began a full sweep and then he concentrated with a rhythm that pulsated with her rhythm. She moaned and grabbed onto the sheets and he used his thumb and his tongue to bring her to a point where she was involuntarily pushing into his tongue and feeling the tingling surge through her body over and over.

"Jesus. My God, Jesus. GREG" she pulled his head away when it became too much.

He pulled his tongue back and climbed up to lay beside her. She turned over on her side and touched his beard. He looked down and put his hand on the two inch scar just below her left breast. "How did you get this?"

"I got in front of a bullet in Poland." She said as he ran his finger over it. "I was undercover, I had managed to become the escort of a very famous arms dealer and one of his clients didn't like the fact that we hadn't delivered what we were suppose to deliver. I was the first hit in the ambush. I went down and was almost dead when my handler managed to extricate me from the firefight. The arms dealer was very dead and for awhile they thought I would be too. But, and remember this, I'm a hard woman to kill."

"But an easy one to please." he said as he kissed the top of her head and held her in his arms.


	17. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

**GETTING TO KNOW YOU**

I was easy to please that night. We lay there in each others arms touching our scars and explaining them to each other. I had bruises where the bullets had hit my vest the day before. He had a red mark from the bullet that went through his neck. It made me sad to think of that day, how close he came to dying.

"Where did you get your broken nose?" I asked.

"Bar fight when I was in college."

"I should have known, of course." I stroked his beard and then kissed his lips.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Juice would be great."

I went out to the kitchen and got a bottle of Nearly Naked Orange Juice and a bottle of water. I took it back and he stopped me as I entered the room.

"I want to look at you."

I posed provocatively against the doorjamb, then he smiled, patted the bed and sat up. I climbed in and handed him his juice, he took a swig and then put it down on the night stand. I drank my water and he turned slightly to look at me. "How do you feel about being out of the CIA?"

I had to think about it. With all the events in the last few weeks, I didn't feel like I was out of the CIA. "I don't know yet. I still feel like I'm in it, but I'm sure that's going to wear off quickly. I've never been just a lawyer. I guess we'll have to see."

"It's going to be very boring compared to what you usually do."

I started to shake my head and grinned, "I don't go chasing bad guys every day. Most days I was just reading information and analyzing it for the President. So, do you still think I'm boring?"

He took my water and put it next to his juice and then pulled me into his arms. "Yeah, you're still boring. But I can handle being bored by you." He laid back down and I followed. He kissed me and I could taste the orange juice. I took my hand and ran it down his chest and then his hip bone, moving over to the top of the happy trail of hair that ran from his belly button to his penis. I touched and stroked the path over and over until I could feel him becoming excited. He took his hand and ran it down my back and over my hips. His touch was firm but smooth and graceful. He kissed my shoulders, my chest and then flicked my nipples with his tongue. It registered all over my body. After he caressed my breasts, I pushed away from him and pushed the sheet off of us. I went to the bottom of the bed and with my tongue I licked the inside of his ankle and all the way up his left leg until I reached his balls. After massaging them with my lips and tongue, I continued to lick and suck until he stopped me.

"Get on," he said hoarsely.

I straddled him and leaned forward slightly. He grabbed my breasts, then my hips to hold me as he jabbed up forcefully into me. I could feel myself bounce over and over until he stopped his rhythm and jabbed slowly three more times and winced. He exhaled and opened his eyes to look up at me. He smiled.

I fell down onto him and he used his hands to reach between my legs and feel my clitoris. It wasn't long and I was grabbing him and moaning, the tingling in my spine and brain and the contractions in my uterus were so strong and lasted longer than usual, after six of these contractions, my delight turned to discomfort and I grabbed his hand and closed my legs to indicate that I could take no more. He kissed my lips as I tried to catch my breath. I was laughing gently into his lips.

"I sometimes don't understand my own body. You would think I could come with you inside. That was a very intense orgasm and all you did was use your nice, long fingers. It doesn't make sense."

"You moron. You need a lesson from Dr. House's Lovemaking 101. I once wrote a whole paper on sex for med school." He cleared his throat. "A woman's entire body, especially _your tiny little mind_, is engaged in climaxing, but without direct or indirect stimulation of the little clitoris, nothing is going to happen." He touched my clitoris, which was still sensitive. I recoiled back, "All this "G" Spot stuff still requires some interaction with that little knob outside so that engorgement of the area occurs. The vagina doesn't have many sensual receptors. Ironically, _the deeper the penetration, the fewer the receptors_. The few nerve receptors which do exist in the vagina are mostly located in the upper third of the vagina, near the opening. Most women aren't vaginally sensitive. If you want to get a woman off, you've got to give the clit some much deserved attention, directly or indirectly. The male's pubic bone may push up against the clit while thrusting during intercourse, indirectly stimulating it. Or the penis may rub against thevulva, which may also result in indirect stimulation. But, indirect stimulation of the clit is not very efficient." He gave me a look of the professor and pretended to push up nonexistent glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Indirect stimulation produces a climax for about 30 of women. The little clit, even though it is smaller in size, is significantly more sensitive due to the greater number of nerve receptors than those found on the glans of the penis. It's just not possible for the majority of women to reach climax in the missionary position unless you find a way to play with the your little knobby friend. So, a finger, a tongue, the tip or some sex toy is a man's best friend. And my best way to make sure you come back for more." He touched me once more on my knobby little friend and I let out a little squeal.

He kissed me deeply and then pulled back as if he had forgotten to tell me something. "Oh, and contrary to all those Romance novels you read, a woman does _not __arch her back _during sexual stimulation. That would have the effect of pulling away from the stimulation. If a woman is laying on her back, a woman's spine actually pushes down so that her pelvis turns out and upward for more stimulation and easier penetration. It's very hard for a woman to fake an orgasm if you know what to look for...so don't even try it."

"Well do what you just did and you won't have to worry." I put my head on his chest as he turned on his back.

"Easy to say, but for women there's a much more emotional component involved. A guy could get it off with a two-bagger. But a woman usually has to feel either an emotional connection or be very physically attracted to a man before she'll entertain an orgasm."

"Well, you must be very attractive because emotionally bonding with you would be suicide."

"You think?" He asked somewhat surprised. "You just risked your life for me."

"Oh don't read anything into that. In my head, you were a civilian and we're

taught to protect the civilians involved _if possible._" I could see my answer nicked him, "Why, do you _want me _to form an emotional bond with you?" I continued to seesaw back and forth over how I felt. After having just seen the love of my life shoot me in the chest, I wasn't exactly feeling warm and fuzzy about new emotional attachments.

His lips, firmly pressed together, protruded out in what appeared to be a pout, "No, I guess not. It's probably better we keep this the way it is." He said with what sounded like sadness.

"That's probably for the best." I was feeling a little cold and cruel after his reaction. I was beginning to wonder if I had read Greg House wrong. Was he really capable of forming attachments to others? Even after Stacey?

He wiggled to get comfortable and then said, "You know I'm moving?"

"Really?" I was surprised. His background check showed he had lived in his apartment for years.

"They're converting my apartment into condos. I'm moving in with Wilson."

I jerked my head back in surprise, "You're joking? You're going to live with another human?"

He squinted his forehead and eyes, "Excuse me? What do you think we've been doing for the last few weeks?"

"Yeah, but this is temporary and you know that." I could feel his muscles tense defensively, "You know I have had a few live in relationships with women. And, during college I had roommates. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I could live with someone?"

"Oh, you have me wrong. I know you can be tolerated and can physically live with someone. And you've been fine here. I just can't believe that _you, _Gregory House, would _volunteer _to live with someone when you didn't have to. You have plenty of money, you could buy several houses if you wanted. So I don't understand why you're now choosing to live with Wilson?"

"You know how much money I have?"

"To the penny. And you didn't declare you gambling winnings." I said. He searched my face to see if I was going to tell the IRS. "Oh, for God's sakes, I'm not going to turn you in...not yet. Screw me over and I will in a heart beat." I said with a straight face, but really joking.

"It was only $40,000 more or less."

"Try $62,378. More than a lot of people make in a year."

He grinned. "You have a good memory."

"Yep. And I'll remember all the good and mean things you say to me. So beware Padwan...your master will haunt you with your own words."

He kissed my neck and hugged me. I felt comfortable in his arms. We fell asleep with the sheet covering us and our bodies molded into a heap of spaghetti. How we untangled from each other, I don't know. But in the morning I was on the edge of my side of the bed and House was in the middle, sprawled out. I got up, went pee and hopped in the shower. A few minutes later a very lazy voice moaned, "Ah come on. Morning sex is the best. You take the shower _after _morning sex!"

"Come in here..." I yelled.

"Shower sex isn't very comfortable with a bad leg." he yelled with aggravation in his voice.

I stopped the shower and when I opened the shower door he was brushing his teeth. I shrugged with my palms up, "Well? Do you want me with wet hair or ... or what?"

He said with a full mouth of toothpaste foam,"'et back 'n be'..."

"Get back in bed?' I asked.

"Yeah."

"My God you are one horny devil aren't you?" I toweled off and then picked up my toothbrush and brushed my teeth with him. When we were done I started to walk out and he swatted me on the butt. "Oww!"

"That will teach you to get out of bed without my permission."

"Sorry master, I was just gonna get all cleaned up so I wouldn't smell like a two-bit whore."

"I like two-bit whores."

"That's right! I forgot." I started thinking. His booty call was now dead, did he expect me to fill the vacancy? We made love and then took a shower. He turned me around, the water hitting the back of us. I leaned back into his chest. He used his coconut shampoo on my hair and then took the shower wand off the wall and rinsed it. He was so gentle I felt really relaxed and glad that it was a Sunday. He lathered up a bath sponge with some of my honey bath gel and rubbed it over my breasts and down inbetween my legs. He let his thumb linger a little down there as he rested his lips on the back of my neck.

"With all that coconut and honey, I could eat you."

"Again?"

"Anytime, anywhere. You really are delicious."

"Gregory House, that's very romantic. You keep saying things like that and I'll have to reward you."

He just chuckled. "What do you want to do today?"

"I have to buy a birthday gift for my brother."

He pulled away from my neck, "Brother? You have a sibling?"

"I have three siblings. Two brothers and one sister. My sister lives in Costa Rica so I don't see her much and I don't really know her that well. She's seventeen years older than me. Actually she's my half sister, my father's daughter from his first marriage.

My father was 42 when I was born. My brothers are four and six years older than me."

"Do they know you're a Spook?"

"_Was _a spook." I turned to look at him, "They thought I worked for the State Department until my cover was blown eight years ago, then I told them."

"So we have to go shopping for a birthday gift?"

I nodded. I turned around and started washing his thinning hair, stopping to kiss him. I rinsed his hair while he had both hands planted on my breasts like he was turning dials. I reached over and rinsed the sponge, put some soap on it and lathered him up.

He reached down and kissed me as I grabbed around his back. I washed his back while we hugged.

"You're done." I announced, turned the water off and then started to get out. He grabbed my arm and brought me back in and hugged me. We stayed like that for at least a minute. I not only enjoyed the feel of his clean, wet, naked body, but I was touched. It was such a simple gesture. It wasn't sex; it was a desire to just have physical contact. He bent down to kiss me and then held out his hand as if to signal for me to get out.

After we got dressed, we had coffee and tea, a slice of toast with black currant jam and then stacked the dishwasher. Greg grabbed my keys and asked, "Princeton Shopping Center?"

"I guess that would work, unless we went to the Plainsboro one?"

"Does he like wines? Claridge Wines is at the Princeton mall." Greg asked as he put on a ridiculous trucker sized orange ball cap.

"That ball cap doesn't do much for you. Don't you have something less conspicuous?" I asked.

He pulled out a dark blue one that said, "Okay, Who Stopped Payment on My Reality Check?" He held it out for me to read and I started to laugh. I shrugged and held my hands up to indicate I gave up. He put the blue one on.

We arrived at the mall and he pulled me towards the Chestnut Tree Bookstore (cheerfully advertised all over town as "Princeton's Half-Priced Bookstore.) He headed to the café bar and ordered himself a latte grande yada yada...I frankly didn't care since coffee is _not _my cup of tea. He ordered me a cup of Irish Breakfast Tea and then proceeded to wander through the stacks of books.

"I thought we were going to buy my brother a gift?" I asked.

He looked at me and put his face close to mine and said sarcastically, "Are you in a hurry or something? Need to get home to see that Nascar race? Or maybe you have to watch the "Quiet Hour" from the Crystal Cathedral?"

I was annoyed, I just asked a question, I didn't mean to start anything, "I'm going to leave you here and go look for a gift. You have a cell phone, call me when you're done." I tried to leave, but a cane came shooting across my midsection and I immediately went into a defensive move, taking the cane and turning quickly in a 180 degree circle, bringing the cane within inches of his head. I looked at his wide eyes and immediately backed up. I swallowed as he calmly took his left hand and grabbed the cane delicately out of my hand.

"Do you _mind _telling me what you think you're doing?" he yelled. Everyone turned to look at us.

I whispered, "You caused a reflex reaction. I'm still wired from Friday and when a weapon comes at you across your midsection, you disarm your opponent and use the weapon to neutralize them."

"I was just trying to stop you so I didn't have to hobble to catch up. I was going to go with you to buy the gift. And I'm _not the opponent._" He exhaled and frowned, "Jesus Christ, do you attack all your boyfriends or just me?"

I tilted my head. _Boyfriend_? "Greg, boyfriend implies something that I'm not comfortable with, at least not yet. It implies that we're going to be mutually exclusive while dating and I'm not really sure I want to do that yet. I just broke up with my fiancé a few months ago and then killed a man I thought I loved more than anyone else. I'm a little gun shy."

He shrugged his shoulders, "Poor choice of words." He took a breath and yelled,

"I meant to say, _do you attack all the men you screw or just me?_"

"I'm going to go find my brother a gift, when you stop acting like a child, call me."

He grabbed my arm. I could have taken him out in two moves, but I held back. I let him know from my look that I didn't appreciate the hand and that I could snap him in half. He removed his hand and put his finger under my chin and kissed me. As he backed away he said, "I'm sorry."

I didn't smile, but I didn't walk out either. I talked as calmly as I could, "Greg, I'm trained to protect my zone of security, the three feet around me. I'm usually not so reflexive except during and after a run-in like we had. It will calm down in a few days, but for now, if you want to remain healthy, no surprise moves, no physical contact that I'm not expecting. I don't want to hurt you, but the reality is that I could kill you in two moves. Easily."

That brought out a smile, "Cool. My girlfriend, the CIA assasin."

I shook my head, "Don't call me your _girlfriend._ I'm not your girlfriend and you're not my boyfriend...at least not yet." I waved my arms as I spoke to emphasize what I was saying. People were still watching us.

"Okay honey. Now, let's go find my future brother-in-law a birthday gift."

I tilted my head and pressed my lips together to indicate my displeasure, but he was grinning all the way out the door.

I discovered that Gregory House has a gift for making me laugh. Within minutes of leaving the bookstore, he was asking women in the mall if they thought he was handsome enough to be my boyfriend.

"Look, we all know that someone who's an 8 dates or marries a 7, 8 or 9...usually. I think my _girlfriend _is an 8.5...maybe a 9.0. Do you think I can score a 7.5 or an 8 so she'll continue to date me?"

I was trying to drag him and his cane away. This little old woman chuckled and said, "I'd get rid of that beard, you look like an old geezer."

Her grandaughter said, "Grandma, the beard is hot. Yeah, I'd say you're at least a 7.5, probably an 8 because of your eyes. Why? Is she dumping you?" She looked at me like I was nuts.

"We've just started seeing each other and I want to go slow. He's just pulling your leg. He doesn't want me as his girlfriend. This is all just an elaborate joke to him."

"That's not true, she says that she can't get emotionally attached to me so soon after breaking off her engagement and killing her old boyfriend. I'm here with my heart on my sleeve. I'm willing to take a chance that she won't pull a gun on me and put one in my head and then my heart for good measure. Why do you think she would be so cruel to me?" He pinched and raised his eyebrows to look sweet and sad. The little old lady patted his hand which rested on his cane. The granddaughter looked at me like I was mean.

"Greg, let's go." I tried to pull him away. He stayed, still looking like a lost puppy.

"House!"

"You see, she orders me around like I'm her dog."

The grandaughter said, "She doesn't deserve you. You should dump her."

I looked at him, I must have looked shocked because he smiled back at me like he had just won a contest. "You're right, but I'm afraid the sex is too good to dump her. But thanks." He nodded at them and came along.

The last thing I heard was the little old lady asking the grandchild rather loudly, "She plays sax too good for him to leave?"

We started laughing, trying not to let her see us crack up as we walked quickly down the mall. He pinched my bottom and said, "I'm going to have to start calling you Bill, for Bill Clinton, you're such a good sax player."

"You are incorrigible. What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm thinking a whiskey, a massage and a blow job?"

"I meant thinking about a gift for my brother!"

"I'd rather be thinking about a blow job." he wiggled his eyebrows.

I threw my arms up and walked into the sports shop. He followed behind me as fast as he could hobble, "Hey! Hey, wait up. What are we doing in here?"

"My brother is a rabid hiker. I'm going to buy him a new backpack."

"Backpacker? How boring."

I turned and put one hand on my hip, "Excuse me? I'm a backpacker too."

He pretended to yawn. I turned and went to the hiking department. I was looking at backpacks when Greg came over in a Peruvian hat with little braided yarn pig tails. He actually looked cute, that long face of his and deep blue eyes framed by the purple, pinks and gray. He kept pulling back and forth on his pigtails trying to make me laugh.

He pretended to speak with a Scandanavian accent, "Ya...I'm a little Dutch girl. My name is Olga, I like to give blow jobs."

I sniggered a little. I was trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. He bent down and rubbed my nose with his and then he gave me a kiss. Not a long drawn out one, but not a short one either. It was very sweet. He was making it hard to be blasé about being with him. I bought the backpack and he bought the hat.

We spent the rest of the day eating out, sitting in the park watching people and then attending the Ansel Adams exhibition. When I came out of the bathroom, I couldn't find Greg. I finally found him at the cashier's buying something which was wrapped in plain brown wrap. We left and on our way through the gardens outside of the museum, Greg sat down and I sat on the bench next to him. He handed me the package. It was a framed 8"X10" of "Thunderstorm, Yosemite Valley."

"I saw that you stared at it for quite awhile." he said.

My voice was soft from emotion, "Thank you so much. I was thinking of how

many times I have seen this same view and how much I miss it. I haven't been to

Yosemite in six years." I looked at the beautiful photograph of the Valley and the thunder caps behind it. Bridalveil Falls is full with spring runoff and the entire valley is filled with lovely trees. I reached over and kissed his cheek. "Why did you do this?"

He thought about it, "I just wanted you to have something to remember this

weekend."

I smiled and shook my head, "Do you think I need this to remember it? I told you

I have a good memory."

He smiled, "In that case, let's go and get my money back."

"Like hell!" I pulled the photo close to my chest in protest.

"Come on Bill, let's go home."

We went home, had a snack, watched some television and made love. I laid back in his arms wondering about him. I was so confused. He was unpredictable and that, in itself, was hard for me to take. I was suppose to be someone who could analyze and predict. I couldn't tell you from one minute to the next what Greg House was thinking or going to do. It kept me off kilter and that scared me. Still, he smelled nice, felt like a man and for tonight, he was keeping me close to his heart.

By Monday the hospital was in a tizzy over the events on Friday. Not many knew that House and I had been involved in the big shootout and we had been told to keep it quiet. Lisa Cuddy knew and the orderly that had run into me in the hall. He had told a few on the night shift, but then the CIA got to him and the others and requested that they keep it to themselves until further notice. This typically didn't work. People like to tell stories about guns and kidnaping, but it did buy us some time for things to die down. I knew that Greg would tell Wilson. I could tell he was aching to tell someone.

When I walked into the cafeteria at noon for lunch, Greg, Lisa and Wilson looked up and stared at me as I ordered and paid for my food. I was going to go sit with my staff, but Lisa motioned for me to come over. I sat down with them.

Lisa spoke up, "I just want to thank you for everything you did. Did you know that in the briefcase and tool case she left behind because of your abrupt departure, she had 200 Curie? Sad thing is that she was good at her job. Our machines have been in great shape over the last two years."

"You're welcome and gratefully, it is over. Now I can become a Well-Being attorney!" I took a bite of my tuna salad sandwich. I looked over at Greg who was so self-satisfied with himself. "So, despite the warnings, I suppose you told Wilson about your adventures?"

He didn't even bother to look contrite, "He can keep a secret."

"Don't worry Isibél, I won't tell everyone how House saved you."

"Saved _me?_" I thought about it and he did grab me onto the motorcycle, but with the aid of the crew in the helicopter I might have been okay and, if House had taken off when I told him to, the Cesium would have been somewhere safe and we wouldn't have gone on _Mr. Toad's Wild Ride_. When they heard the tone of my voice, they turned to House and looked at him with disgust. I realized that I had just burst his balloon. "Well, he actually did save me by pulling me onto the motorcycle in the middle of a firefight. He didn't abandon me."

Their demeanor changed once again to appreciation of House, who smiled again.

Lisa turned back to me. "I heard you killed five people? Is that hard to do?" She asked.

_People always want to know if I have a conscience. _"Yes and no. My training instinctively tells me that these people could and would cause the deaths of innocent people if I let them live. I have to put the security of my country ahead of my personal feelings."

"But wasn't one of them your old boyfriend?" Lisa asked.

I gave House an incredibly dirty look to tell him that I didn't appreciate him giving out my personal information. Now he looked contrite. "That was hard. But he had just shot me in the chest, so it didn't take much to know that if I could get off a shot at him, I needed to take it."

"He shot you in the chest?"

"I had a Kevlar vest on."

Lisa shook her head in amazement. Wilson looked paralyzed with surprise. I continued to eat my food and send blazing looks of disdain at House. House gave me a week smile, but I wasn't happy. I turned the talk to an upcoming fund raising event that the staff was excited about. It was the hospital picnic with a little fair where there would be booths, games, food, dancing and swimming at Rosedale Park and Picnic Grounds.

The picnic always took place in the middle of August. This time is was on August Lisa informed me that I would be assisting in arranging the permit, insurance th ance and alcohol license for the event. Staff paid $40 for a family of four or individual tickets could be purchased for $15 each. It included a barbeque and all of the contests which had prizes donated by the community. The event was underwritten by several local merchants so the ticket money all came back to the hospital. It wasn't a big fund raiser, but the staff enjoyed it. The money went directly to funding staff events and setting up an emergency loan fund for the employees of PPTH. Approximately 350 employees, their family and guests came each year. Beer and wine booths were set up, but were extra and some of the game booths charged. One booth that charged was the kissing booth, $2.00 per kiss and the dunking booth, $2.00 to dunk a regular employee, $5.00 to dunk a doctor. Lisa had convince ten doctors to take fifteen minutes a piece in the booth, including Wilson. She didn't bother to ask House, she knew he'd say no.

After lunch, I ran into Dr. Gaulley, House's therapist from rehab. He smiled at me and almost let me passed, but then turned and called my name.

"Ms. O'Rourke?"

I turned and went back to speak to him, "Yes, doctor?"

He looked a little uneasy, "I was just wondering why House was staying with you?"

"Because he just got out of rehab. Is there something wrong?" I started thinking that maybe he was going to tell me it wasn't a good idea to let House stay with me if we were going to be intimate.

"No, it's just that I told him a week after he got out that he should try some time on his own. His tox screens were negative and I was impressed with his progress. I thought being on his own again, to find out just how bad the temptation was would be good for us to explore. But he told me how you just moved here and didn't feel safe in Princeton without a man around to look after you."

I was flustered and I'm sure it showed. He had lied to me so that he could stay with me! Why? I was thinking about this when I realized Dr. Merchant was still talking to me.

"...So I was wondering if you wanted to come up and talk to me about your fear of being alone and being attacked?"

"Oh! Thanks, but I'm starting to feel really safe and I think it was just moving jitters. So you think House needs to be on his own?"

"It's just a suggestion so that we see where he is progress wise. He's moving in next week with Wilson, I'd like to see him try a few nights on his own."

"That's a great idea and we can certainly accommodate that. Thanks doctor for your time and concern." I walked off even more upset that he had lied to his therapist about me. Afraid to be alone? Not feel safe in Princeton? I had walked down the most notorious streets in Turkey, Pakistan and Russia without a man on my arm. Princeton not safe?

I didn't take his telephone calls that afternoon. I raced home and packed up his beard trimmer, toothbrush, toothpaste, coconut shampoo, nail clippers, guitar, clothes, shoes, magazine, books, journals, the beer he bought, and anything else I saw that belonged to him. I threw his dirty clothes in a plastic bag and had everything waiting by the front door.

I was standing with my arms across my chest when I heard the key turn the lock in the door. He walked into the entryway and glanced quickly down at the bags. He looked up at me and I could tell he was nervous. "I just told them that the guy in the car was someone you used to date, _that's all!_"

"Give me your key." I said with my hand out.

"No." He palmed the key quickly.

"I'll break every f#ckin' bone in your body if you don't give me that key right now."

He pressed his lips together and moved them back and forth, contemplating my threat. He gave me the key.

"And for your information, I was upset about Pavel, but the icing was Dr. Merchant telling me that he had actually counseled you to live on your own after a week with me! Your excuse was that I was frightened of my own shadow. You spill your guts about Friday. You tell them about me killing five people. You let them know I killed someone I loved very much and then I find out that you not only lied to me, but to Dr. Merchant about me. I can take a lot of abuse, but I won't take you lying to me."

He cringed when he heard the name, Dr. Merchant. He nodded, "I'll need a ride home with all this stuff."

"Get a cab." I turned and went into the bedroom and, slammed the door. I heard his voice talking to someone on the phone. About forty-five minutes later I heard the door close and he was gone. His motorcycle was gone too. It meant that he had convinced Wilson to come pick his stuff up.

I went out and got something to eat and then went home and read. I got up to brush my teeth and found his cologne in the bathroom. I was pretty sure I had packed it, but I couldn't be sure. I'd take it into him the next day. I went to sleep.

I got up early and took the cologne in and placed it conspicuously on his desk and left. I saw Cameron staring at me from the other room, trying to figure out what I was doing. I just waved and smiled at her. I went back to my office and thought about how I wanted to decorate it. Lisa had opened the hospital purse-strings in appreciation for what I had done.

The papers never got wind that the Cesium had gone missing over three years, indicating a lapse in security at PPTH. Instead The Company released a story thanking PPTH for its cooperation in setting up a trap to "nab the terrorists". It turned out that Lisa and the hospital were being hailed as heros and donations came in from appreciative people all over the country. The hospital also showed an overall increase in patients. So Lisa was very happy.

I was just looking at photos of other offices in magazines when my first walk-in showed up.

" Isibél, Dr. House is here to see you."

"No, send him away." I started to hang up the phone, but I could hear him yelling in the background at Perry. He was screaming that he had rights as an employee to see the Well-Being attorney. I could hear Perry try and get the upper hand, but losing the battle. I walked out to the office and saw House waving his hands at her. He saw me out of the corner of his eye and stopped in his tracks.

"Dr. House, come back with me." I said.

He followed me into my office. I pointed to the chair across from me and he sat. "Greg, don't be a baby, stop all this drama. It's better that you and I not date. I'm not your type. You need someone young, pliable and star-struck by your status here. I"m not that gullible."

"I'm not here to talk about us. I want to volunteer for the dunk booth."

I said nothing. I was trying to figure out what this was about.

He squinted, "You're scaring me. You have that kinda 'deer in headlights' look."

"You want to go into the dunk booth for fifteen minutes?"

He nodded.

All I could think of was how much money he could raise if he stayed in there for an hour. Still a throw apiece...we could probably get 18 people through the line at $5.00 a pop.

He looked at me and said, "But, they have to pay $25 apiece to throw, tickets in advance."

I burst out laughing. I had no doubt that there would be at least 18 people who'd pay $25 to throw a ball to dunk him. "Why? Lisa has been wanting you to do this for years? Why this year?"

"Because I want something in return."

_Here it goes, drumroll please. Clinic time off, no lectures for a month, free meals __in the cafeteria?... _"What?"

"I want a second date with you."

"I thought this wasn't about you and me?"

"It's about how the staff funds could make a quick $500. You wouldn't want to deprive the employee fund of that would you?"

I took out my check book. "You're right, I wouldn't want to deprive them, so I'm writing a check for $500 right now." I signed it and ripped it out of my checkbook. I smiled with a little bit of malice, "There, you don't have to get dunked and humiliated and I don't have to feel guilty. Now, can you leave?"

He started waving his upper torso around in frustration, "Oh come on..." He sounded just like a teenager. "Come on, no one died. So I told you I needed to live with you so that you'd let me stay with you. I was enjoying myself. You were entertaining. You gave good massages. You cooked my dinner and washed my clothes. Can you blame me?"

I looked down, trying to compose myself, "You were manipulating me like I was just one of your other flunkies. I'm not Greg. I'm not going to let you play me."

"I won't do it again."

"No you won't, because the best way of making sure is to not let you get close."

" Isibél, I did those things before we spent last weekend together. I wouldn't play you now." he sounded a little desperate. I felt sad for him. He sounded truly sorry. I decided to change subjects, "I have some good news for you. I sent your test results to the Medical Examiners and AG and you're off the hook for now."

His voice was heavy, "Thanks."

The phone buzzed and through the intercom Perry said, "Your 10:00 is here."

"Thanks." I looked back at Greg, "My next appointment is here. You'll have to leave."

He stood up, grabbed his cane and left. I sat back and closed my eyes remembering him in the shower and kissing me in the mall. I wanted to run out and tell him I'd give him a second chance. But I wasn't good at giving second chances...for that matter, I wasn't good at getting them either.


	18. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

**HARD ACT TO FOLLOW**

Isibél had a rough week. She spent most the week unraveling problems-- a car deal gone sour, a bar fight and possible criminal charges against one of the custodians, and there were several people who just needed a letter written. She stayed rather late each night trying to getting the letters out the door. It was good though because it kept her mind off of the whole House fiasco. By the time she picked up something for dinner, ate and cleaned up, it was time for bed. The first night had been the worst. She could smell House all over her sheets and so she got up and changed them. She was able to sleep after that.

On Friday Perry took pity on her and stayed to help. They stayed until 7:00 p.m. and then called it quits. Perry and Isibél walked out to the parking lot together. "Hey, you up to going out for a drink?" Perry asked.

"Only if I can have about an hour to clean up. I feel yucky. Like I need a good wash."

Perry was only a few minutes from her apartment, so she didn't mind, "Okay. That sounds good. I mean, after all we're both two 'wild and crazy gals' and maybe we'll get lucky. Let's go over to Salt Creek Grille, they've have music and they make a great Margarita. Since you don't know where it is, I'll pick you up."

Isibél went home, took a shower and slipped into a short, white, denim skirt and an orange-red silk halter top. She put on the makeup, including eyeliner, deep brown eyeshadow, black mascara, blush, lipstick, lipliner and face powder. She put on long dangling gold earrings with a diamond stud. She pulled out her three inch gold sandals and slipped her feet into them. She went out to the kitchen, took some naprosyn for her headache and looked at the clock, Perry should be arriving soon. She heard a honk outside so she grabbed her little gold purse, locked the door and got into the car.

Perry was a cute, kind of big, thirty year old divorceé. She had short, red dyed hair that made her green eyes look like emeralds. She had great proportions for her 5'7" frame. Her size 14 dress showed off some pretty voluptuous curves and Isibél admired the way Perry was able to carry her 180 lbs. When Isibél got into the car Perry wrinkled her forehead, "Damn girl! You look hot. I'm going to get burned just being in the same car with you."

"Really?" Isibél didn't sound convinced. "I was just going to say the same about you. That's a great dress."

Perry looked down at her strawberry and blueberry colored belted dress and nodded, "We are two hot mamas tonight. If we don't take the place by storm, then these men are gay."

Isibél laughed in response. They talked all the way to the restaurant about men and what was wrong with them these days.

Perry couldn't resist, "So did you do the nasty with Gregory "the jerk" House?"

Isibél frowned and squinted, "I'm afraid I did it several times."

Perry wailed, "Oh you don't have to apologize. He's got a reputation. He doesn't nail too many women, but when he does, they stay nailed!"

Isibél nodded, "Oh yeah, doctor! He has a tongue to die for."

"Well a woman can forgive many things of a man if he knows how to use that tongue."

"Amen."

They arrived and went directly into the low-ceilinged jazz bar where they were forced to stand because it was already 8:30 pm and the place had filled up for Ron Kramer's jazz trio. The place was crowded, but you could still move around. The waitress was busy waiting on some of the male customers and was ignoring Isibél and Perry. Isibél decided it might be better if she went up to the bar. She pushed through a part of the crowd by the door where she was standing. She now had a semi-obstructed view of the area where the trio would play and the lounge seating. There were numerous armless beige ultra-suede chair that looked comfortable and a few couches.

_I'm going to have to score me some chairs soon, these sandals are for looks, not __function. I should have worn my flats._

She realized that she was getting some appreciative looks and smiles from the guys, some who had dates and wives. She was about to turn towards the bar when she stopped dead in her tracks.

House was listening to Wilson tell Tiffany Neuburger about the last great picnic fiasco when the hired clown got drunk and tried to drown himself in the lake. Tiffany was laughing and flirting with both of them. She had heard that House and Wilson sometimes frequented the restaurants with jazz bands and she had played a hunch that they would be at Salt Creek because Ron Kramer was playing. She had walked in looking gorgeous with her pouty lips and Stephanie Seymour looks. She was wearing a shoulderless dress that showed off her shoulders and her very long legs. Tiffany wasn't sure which one she wanted most? Wilson was personable, handsome and generous according to the staff. He liked to treat women well. House was the opposite, the bad boy of PPTH. She liked bad boys too. She was pretty sure she'd go home with Gregory House, but it could still go Wilson's way. She would just have to wait and see.

House straightened his Navy blue sports coat. He had worn a crisp white shirt under the sports coat and jeans. He had his head turned down towards the drink when he felt something. He didn't know how to describe it, but it made him look up and over towards the bar. He saw her before she saw him. He exhaled quickly and chuckled, a big grin spreading across his face. Wilson heard the sharp breath and looked at House. He followed his gaze across the room. It was Isibél, looking sexy and sensual in a short skirt and low cut halter top. Wilson shook his head. House had invited him out to stop thinking about her and here she was. They were like magnets. Tiffany turned to see who they were looking at and immediately recognized the hospital lawyer although she had never met her.

He waited, he knew it would only be a few seconds before she saw him. But in those few seconds he watched the men behind her check her legs and butt out. _She's __just about ready to look over here, ok, ok, ok, now._

Isibél's eyes grew large and then she closed them to block out the sight. _What is __he doing here? Well, I guess he's more likely to be here than me. It is a jazz trio __playing. _Isibél immediately recognized the gorgeous woman sitting with him as one of the doctors at PPTH. _Boy he works fast. One weekend he's in my bed, the next he's in __hers. More power to him._

Isibél turned to go to the bar and order their drinks. She heard Perry's voice behind her, "Oh man, did you see who's here?"

Isibél was nodding her head when the waitress came over to them with two drinks. "These are from the guys standing over there."

Perry and Isibél waved at their benefactors. "What are they?" Perry asked the waitress.

"Mango Mojitos."

Isibél and Perry said simultaneously. "Sounds good." They toasted each other and then took a drink.

"So do we spend the whole night ignoring House or do we go talk to them?" Perry asked.

"He doesn't want us over there, he's got company." Isibél said without turning around to look at House.

Perry took a good look at House's company, "Oh crap. That's Tiffany Neuberger, the new doctor. She's single and every guy in the hospital has the hots for her. If she's your competition, you're in trouble."

Isibél laughed, "Oh Perry, she's no competition."

"Ooh girl, you're pretty confident. Alright, go send Tiffany packing."

"I don't want House. It wouldn't be fair to them if I just did it to win a bet. Let House have his fun with Tiffany. Greg and Tiffany k.i.s.s.i.n.g." She sang out.

Perry laughed. "Oh come on, I'd like to see Tiffany get the wind taken out of her.

She's been walking around the hospital like she's Madonna."

Isibél snuck a look over and saw House talking to Wilson and Tiffany. He abruptly turned and saw her watching him. He lifted his glass to her. She gave a little nod. Another mojito arrived from somewhere. Perry and Isibél drank down their Mojitos. Isibél was feeling the drinks.

"Perry, I've got to find somewhere to sit, these shoes are killing me." They looked around.

Perry smiled, "Your boyfriend is sitting on a couch with two seats empty. Come on Isibél, if you won't go chase Tiffany away for a bet, do it for a seat."

Luckily, Isibél was feeling slightly drunk and decided that Perry had a point. House was sitting on a virtual gold mine in this bar. "He's mine."

"Well, how do we...I mean you...do this?" Perry asked.

Isibél grabbed the waitress, "What's the best whiskey you have in here?"

"Auchentoshan."

Isibél looked impressed, "I'll say. Bring me a double..."she saw the waitress give her a skeptical look, "...please."

"It's $35.00." She warned.

"Ewwww...fine. Here, here's five bucks for you to bring me the one drink asap."

The waitress frowned and went off. She returned a few minutes later with a double. Isibél paid for it and then said to Perry, "Follow my lead."

Isibél worked her way across the room. House's radar went up, he knew she was close. He looked up, there she was, standing above them. House leaned back into the couch and put his right arm on the arm of the sofa and the left up on the back in the perfect alpha male territory claim. Isibél took a big drink of her whiskey, sat it down casually on the table next to his, moved forward, pushed his knees apart, sat down onhis left leg and said, "Taste this and tell me what brand it is." She reached over, pulled his head forward and gave him an open mouth kiss with her whiskey soaked tongue playing with his. House took in a deep breath and kissed her back, deeply. The kiss lasted quite a bit, Perry took a seat at the end of the couch nearest to Wilson's chair and then shrugged at both Tiffany and Wilson.

House pulled back a little and spoke into her lips, "Auchentoshan."

She smiled back into his lips and stroked his hair, "Would you like another taste?"

House pulled his head back far enough to look at her. He noticed that several of the men were staring at him, envying him sitting there with a beautiful woman in his lap and two gorgeous women to his sides. Of course Wilson was also there, but it certainly was a nice ratio. She reached over to pick up the glass of whiskey, allowing her breast to graze his hand as she did. She took a drink and then smiled at him. He leaned in and kissed her again. He wanted to touch her breast, to feel her nipples in his fingers, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't even move or let her out of his lap because his erection was embarrassingly large. Isibél could feel his erection pushing up against her right thigh and slowly used her thigh to rub him over and over. The stroking caused him to pull his tongue back and concentrate on what was happening below. She placed her hand down next to her thigh and teased him over and over with her hand until he closed his eyes and placed his head against her hair and her ear. He started breathing hard and fast until she heard him draw in five sharp breaths. She snickered. She knew that as soon as she moved off his lap he was going to have to cover up with his sport coat.

_Poor House. He's so easy. I don't understand him. He knows what I'm doing __and he's letting me get away with it. Why? He's got to be playing me. Oh well, I __managed to get off my feet and onto this couch._

Isibél pulled off her sandals, then slipped off his leg and onto the couch. House quickly pulled the sport coat over the stain on his jeans and adjusted his posture. Isibél gave him the glass of whiskey as a prize. She turned around and nodded at Wilson.

"Hello Jim."

"Hello Isibél, glad you could join him. He's been moping all week long."

She patted House's knee and then reached over and kissed his cheek. "Did you really miss me?"

House looked at her sideways. "What do you want me to say?"

"Goodbye Tiffany."

The whole table gasped at how rude Isibél was being to Tiffany, who hadn't said a word during this whole display of sensual affection. Even Perry was embarrassed. House smiled, looked at Tiffany, snorted and then looked back at Isibél, "Goodbye Isibél."

Isibél didn't hesitate, she just smiled at House and said, "Goodbye Greg." She got up and looked at Perry. "Perry, don't worry, I'll find my way home." She walked quickly through the crowd.

Perry turned to House, "She's drunk, you can't let her just leave."

"I'm not her Daddy." House said sarcastically. "If anyone can take care of herself, Isibél can."

"I'll go get her and take her home." Perry said.

"I'll go with you." Wilson volunteered.

The two of them got up and, as the music played, went searching for Isibél, but they were unable to find her. The bathroom was searched, the restaurant, the bar, which wasn't that big, was combed. The two came back to House who was now sitting on the couch with his arm around Tiffany.

"Have you seen Isibél ?" Wilson asked.

House looked up, annoyed, "Do I look like I've seen her or even care?"

"House, she just disappeared. She may be in trouble."

"She's a Spook, of course she disappeared. That's what Spooks do."

Tiffany looked at House, "A Spook? That's rather derogatory, isn't it?"

House shook his head and said with disdain, "Not that kind of Spook." House turned back to Wilson who had now been joined by Perry, "Sit down, I guarantee you she can take care of herself. I _know._"

They sat down and listened to the music and forgot about Isibél. Perry ended up going out for coffee with Wilson afterwards and a date was made. Tiffany managed to get House to take her home.

"Would you like a quick drink? I think I have some whiskey...you could try and figure out what brand it was." She smiled suggestively.

"I've had enough to drink. But thanks." he was thinking that, after what Isibél pulled publicly and so sensually, Tiffany's offer paled.

"Greg, I like you. Why don't you come in and spend the night?"

"What? Your parents aren't home and you need a babysitter?' He quickly realized what a jerk he was being. The problem was that he wished he had told Tiffany to get lost and not Isibél, but he just couldn't let Isibél win. "I'm sorry. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not feeling like banging anyone who is too young to have watched a splashdown. I think I'll say goodnight."

Tiffany's jaw dropped. No man had ever turned her down. Greg House was now at the top of Tiffany's, "Must Have" list. She watched as House drove off in his rather old, unsophisticated car. Tiffany went into her house smiling to herself.

House drove over to Isibél's apartment and parked. There were no lights on and he figured she must be asleep. He knew it would be impolite to wake her, but she had been the queen of impolite tonight, so he knocked on the door and rang the doorbell.

There was no answer. He was worried. He went to the back and saw that her motorcycle and car were in the garage. He went back to the front door and this time banged on it. A light came on in the living room.

House perched himself on his cane, waiting for the door to open. He heard the lock unlatch and when the door opened he was looking straight into the eyes of a very handsome man. He was the same height as House and he had sandy blonde hair, grey eyes and he looked like he could be a distant cousin to Robert Redford. House watched him as he yawned and adjusted the band on his boxers, the only thing he was wearing. He was clearly trying to wake up.

"Yeah? How can I help you?"

"I'm with the Health Department and we're trying to catch up with all of sexual contacts of a resident who has a antibiotic resistant form of gonorrhea. Could you please let Ms. O'Rourke know that she should get tested and treated?"

"This clap, can it be cured?" he asked, now wide awake.

"Well usually the penis turns black for awhile, but we can typically save it. However, the only thing it's good for in the future is peeing. But it can be cured."

House smiled and turned, got back in his car and drove off. But as he got further down the road he thought about Isibél. He had blown it again. One word and she would have stayed. One word and maybe he could have found what he had before. But she sure worked fast, it didn't take long for her to find someone else. He drove back to Tiffany Neuburger's and when she opened the door in her revealing night gown he said, "I've decided that you do need a babysitter because you've been a very naughty girl."

She had been asleep, but when she saw House on her doorstep she smiled and pulled him inside, "I can be even naughtier."

Monday morning Isibél called in and asked Cuddy for the day off. Cuddy, who was now Isibél's greatest fan had agreed immediately. Isibél was enjoying his company and, despite the fight they had over the black clap and House's appearance, things had calmed down and they were having a blast. But he had to go back to Boston the next day and so she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him.

They went and did a quick tour of Princeton and then went rowing on Lake Carnegie. It was so hot that they only stayed out on the lake for a half hour. They found one of those kiddie fountains that spray up in random patterns at the mall, so they played for a few minutes in it to cool off. They were going to grab a late lunch, but they were wet, so they just grabbed groceries and went back to Isibél's place.

_Being with him is so easy. Why can't House be like this?_

Isibél wanted to show him where she worked and so they drove to PPTH and parked. Isibél saw the Repsol and knew that House was still at work even though it was almost five. She grabbed his arm and introduced him around to the nurses and her staff. There were lots of smiles and warm welcomes. Perry was happy to see that Isibél had lived through the weekend and had company to make things better.

She walked him to the elevator, their arms slipped easily into each others and shared a joke. They were still laughing when the door opened on the second floor and a surprised Greg House stood waiting. He got on and the elevator door closed. "I see you guys got treated for the black clap." House remarked.

A hand came up, grabbed House's caller and twisted him around. The sandy blonde guy was gritting his teeth and ready to do some damage. Isibél was pulling on him to keep him from hitting House. "Kier, he's not worth it. Let him go, let him go." Isibél kept pulling on his arm and hand.

House brandished his cane, "I'm armed and dangerous."

Kieran laughed at him and put Isibél in front of him, showing her to House, "I am too." Kieran pointed at House, "Sic him Isi, come on, get him girl."

Isibél and Kieran broke down laughing. She growled at House as the elevator door opened.

"Grrrrrr." Isibél growled at House.

House looked at them like they were both nuts. He started to take off, but Kieran caught up and grabbed him again. "You owe Isibél an apology. You caused a huge fight between us and I don't appreciate that."

"Tough, why should I apologize? She's a Spook and a slut." he said.

Kieran's arm came back, his hand balled in a fist. Isibél jumped up and grabbed it before he could let it fly. He was trying to yank it away from her and hold House by the collar at the same time. House was bringing his cane up to strike Kieran when a loud voice rang out. "House!" Lisa Cuddy ran up to them. Kieran still had his arm back. "Excuse me," she smiled up at Kieran, "are you Isibél's brother Kieran?"

Kieran relaxed and turned to shake Lisa's hand. House's face dropped and he closed his eyes realizing what he had done. Kieran turned to look at House. "You owe my sister an apology, especially after all she's done for you. You're pretty pathetic and ungrateful aren't you?"

House grimaced and nodded while looking down. He looked over at Isibél and said quietly, "I apologize...you're obviously not a slut. You're a Spook, but not a slut." Isibél was embarrassed. She blushed red at the apology. It was easier for her to handle an acerbic Greg, but harder for her to handle a contrite one. Kieran dropped House's collar and turned to Lisa Cuddy.

"Would you like to join us for dinner and drinks?" he asked very sincerely.

Lisa was looking at this guy, who was probably her age, and thinking he looked mighty fine in his Nautica pants and polo shirt. "I'll join you in a minute, let me just get my purse," she said as she pushed back her hair and smiled sweetly at him.

House turned to go home to his new house and collapsed in front of the television. He started chewing the cuticle on his right hand. He blew it again. Worst off, this could really get messy. Tiffany was gorgeous to look at but there was something so desperate about her personality that House wished he had just gone home that night. He had only gone to Tiffany because he thought Isibél had gone home with a man.

_Why do I even care who she goes home with? Does it matter? I was so close, __so close to having something with her. Then I muddle it further by getting involved with __a woman I don't want anything to do with. On top of it, my leg is killing me. It's been __aching all day. Probably from all that unpacking. I told Bordeaux I needed a nerve __block. He refused to give me one, said that I had one just the other day...well, you __quack, my leg hurts._

House flew home on his motorcycle, entered the outside doors to his bedroom and threw his helmet and back pack on the floor and plopped down on the bed. He reached in his levis and pulled out the brown bottle and popped it open like a pro.


	19. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

**DEJA Vú ALL OVER AGAIN**

I had left House with Tiffany after being dismissed by house at the jazz club. I wasn't surprised, his reaction to my touch and kiss told me more than being dismissed by him. His little orgasm in public was his involuntary way of telling me how he really felt. But getting the hell out of dodge is sometimes the better part of valor. I left and as I was leaving received a text message.

Hey Sis,

I was down for a convention and thought I'd pop over to see you for the weekend.

Where are you? I'm at your apartment.

Kier

I was lucky, a group of people got out of a cab and I jumped in. I called him and

told him I was on my way. I pulled up and he was sitting on the step. He was so cute. I loved my brothers, they thought they were taking care of me, but I didn't really need their help. He grabbed me around the neck and gave me noogies on my head. I often wondered why my brothers got the tall genes and I got the short ones. It pissed me off, because they never let me hear the last of it.

Kieran and I talked, I made up the sofa bed and then I hit the sack. An hour later I felt a hand shaking me awake.

"Damn it Isibél wake up. What the hell have you been doing since you left the Spooks? Sleeping with anyone who'll have you? Haven't you heard of a condom?"

Kieran was still shaking me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I looked up at him and he was so angry he was red in the face.

Kieran was screaming at me and clinching his teeth, "The health department was just here, the guy you slept with has the black clap and you need to get checked and treated."

"I slept with? Gregory House has the black clap?"

"Who the hell is Gregory House?"

I was disoriented, "The only guy I've slept with since Alex."

"Please tell me you used a condom."

"That's none of your business." I looked around, "What time is it?"

He paused, "It's 1:00 am."

"The health department is a government agency, they wouldn't be here this late.

What did they say?"

"That you had been the sexual partner of someone who had a Gonorrhea that was resistant to antibiotics. God Isi, what have you gotten yourself into? You could be really sick."

It was only then that it started to dawn on me what was going on, "This health agent was he a scruffy looking dude in a blue blazer, jeans and white shirt with a cane?"

He looked at me sideways, "Who is this guy?"

"Just a jerk." I proceeded to tell him all about Greg.

I was so angry with Greg because, for a brief moment, my brother thought I was a slut sleeping around with strangers. My brother apologized and when he left, gave me a kiss on the cheek instead of the usual farewell noogies.

I didn't see House for the next two weeks. I didn't see him until the picnic. I arrived early with the rest of the Well-Being committee to help set up. We were goofing off and enjoying ourselves when several of the employees started to show up. The first doctor to go into the tank was Walter Simons. He was a pretty nice guy so not too many people wanted to knock him off.

I was wearing shorts over my swimsuit. I watched as House rolled up on his motorcycle with Tiffany Neuburger on the back. Her long legs were stunning in her short shorts. House looked good in his shorts and t-shirt. He had a ball cap on that said, "On the Internet I'm a 15 Yr Old Girl." He headed straight for the beer, she made a beeline to the bathroom.

I turned and went back to my back pack, grabbed my sunscreen and towel. I headed for the lake. I walked into the water and swam to the wooden platform out in the lake. I climbed up and sat for a minute before jumping off and swimming. I had been diving and swimming for half an hour when I felt something at my ankles. I wasn't sure I was actually feeling something until I surfaced and his face surfaced a foot away.

"Good afternoon Spookie."

"Go away. Go hump your girlfriend."

He grimaced at that. "She didn't want to get her hair wet," he said in all seriousness.

I started laughing and that made him laugh. "Greg, you made your choice, now just let me get on with my life."

His face scrunched up and he shook my head, "A day without Gregory House in it is like taking the bus to work, sure it will get you there, but I'm a better ride." He swam forward and grabbed me to kiss me.

I came up and gave him a hand block. It's hurts, but doesn't do any permanent damage.

"Jesus Christ, I was just going to give you a kiss."

"Sorry, I can only please one person a day and today isn't yours." I swam away and he swam after me. He was swimming pretty fast, he had really built up his arms and was gaining easily on me. I swam to the platform on the south side of the lake. It was empty and no one was around or on the beach. I held onto the ladder by the platform. He swam up and held onto the other side of the ladder.

He wiped the water off his face and then looked me in the eyes, "I screwed up. I want to go out with you."

"And Lilly and Tiffany and...whoever crosses your path that needs tampons once a month."

"Mean...you're mean. I'll have you know, I had a long dry spell before Lilly caught me in her radioactive clutches. Tiffany was...well, she'd be great in the sack race, but lousy at Jeopardy."

I shook my head in disgust, "Despite the look on my face, you're still talking?" I climbed up on the platform knowing he would follow.

"You know you want me. You've got my name all over your vibrator."

"Leave me alone Gregory House."

"Just let me kiss you and I'll go."

"No, this isn't Tammy and the Doctor. Kissing you isn't going to make me go all weak and jelly-like. I'm not going to suddenly melt and let you have your way. That's Tiffany, not me."

"Then one kiss can't hurt, can it?" He was laying down next to me.

"Look, I'm not your type. I remember disco from when it was first popular, I've got cellulite and I don't need a man to feel safe. You want someone with smooth thighs, no history and a malleable personality. I think you and Tiffany make a great couple."

"One kiss."

"Stop hounding me."

His face was just inches away and his arm went around my wet body. His mouth opened slightly and covered my bottom lip. His tongue slipped in, tasting like the lake. I pushed it back with my tongue and his fought back. I was getting very turned on from this conflict, I reached up and grabbed his hair, pulling it to make him get off. He batted the arm down and pinned me. He looked down at me then came back down for more. I was wearing a tankini. He slipped his hand up my top and under the elastic. My breasts were cold from being in the lake. He fondled them and then put his mouth on my swimsuit, sucking on my nipple through the swimsuit. It was an incredible sensation, his one arm pinning my hands above my head, his mouth over my breast and his hand caressing it. All on a platform where we could be discovered.

The hand came down from the top and pulled on my bottoms. I squeezed my legs together as hard as I could, but his long fingers were able to pull the bottoms down enough that he was able to get his fingers between my legs and start stroking. I squirmed to get lose, but he get a steady rhythm.

I tipped from being the combatant to the willing accomplice when he used his hand to part my legs slightly. He then pulled the suit down my legs. He started to rub again and soon his other arm was supporting his weight while he was pleasing me. I was starting to dry hot under the heat of the sun and my whole body was warm. He pulled his board shorts down and I reached down for his erection.

My mind went into overdrive. I wanted him in me so badly. It would be so easy, just say the word and he'd stab me and ride me. But my photographic memory started playing the scene from the MRI room, the jazz club and Tiffany on the back of his motorcycle causing a struggle in my head. I was feeling my body reach up for his fingers, aching for it to be more than a finger. He looked down at me and I guess he must have seen the wheels turning in my head and my body retreating because he simply said, "Just let it go, give it a chance."

My mind switched off and my body went into overdrive. I kicked my bottoms off and grabbed him, pulling him in the direction of his fingers. He stopped, removed his fingers and let me guide him in. He slipped in like an eel and moaned a little when he felt how wet I was. He moved inside me with force and more passion than we had experienced before. I kept pushing up as he thrust forward. He was right. My body curved with my shoulders and pelvis tilting up and my back tried to push back on the platform. I could feel his body start to move and he slid from the missionary position to me being on top. My knees rested on the warm platform and I fell slightly forward so that I could rub myself against him with each thrust. It was too much, I threw my head back and screamed, the wave hit me so fast. The contractions of my body felt stronger than ever. I looked down and saw Greg's mouth and his eyes open wide as he felt the contractions of my climax. He was holding his breath. He closed his eyes and his mouth as he grabbed me, pulled me down to his chest and gave me several thrusts. He yelled out and kept jabbing me sharply as he came. I watched his face and body react to the sensations going through his body. I smiled. _I did that. I gave him that._

"Oh God, God, get off...please." He was urgent.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it was just ...just so sensitive, even the slightest touch was painful. Christ, I don't think I've ever come so hard in my life. I saw a white light."

"Did anyone say 'cross over?'"

We both chuckled. "No, but except for being shot, I think that's the closest to death I've ever been."

"Damn it, some kids are coming. Hand me my bottoms."

He reached over and grabbed my bottoms and pulled his up. I scooted behind him and managed to get them on just when they reached the ladder.

"Hi." They each said and then started jumping off and having fun. I dove into the water and started swimming, wondering what in the hell I had just gotten myself into?

House followed and by the time we got to the east shore where the picnic was, we were exhausted. I made it up to the grass and my towel. I sat down, breathing quickly. I wanted so much to grab my things and run from him.

"Look, I'll let Tiffany know about us and then I'll get Wilson to drive her home this afternoon. You can come over and see the new place and we can watch some DVDs. I have tickets tomorrow to the jazz festival so you can just spend the night and we can get an early start."

"Whoa!! You need to talk in present tenses. Do you know how crappy I'm feeling right now? You just manipulated your way into my life again. I let you ...seduce me. I'm feeling like a fool and I'm not exactly feeling good about you."

He gave me a look of annoyance, "Just because I know what I want and I went after it, don't call me a manipulator." He thought a second, "Okay, maybe I do manipulate people, but if you didn't want me, you would have snapped me in two with one of your Don Ho moves. You need to give this a chance. We both need this."

"I need another wrecked relationship like I need a hole in my head. I'll never trust a man if I keep letting myself get hurt."

He became serious, almost sad, "The likelihood of me being the one to hurt you is pretty low. Typically the women walk out on me."

I got up and dragged my towel under a tree. "Go get me a diet coke." I ordered and he jumped. I saw him wander off and I looked around for Tiffany who was playing volleyball. At least her hair didn't get wet. He came back with a diet coke and a beer.

We sat in silence for a few minutes while we drank our beverages.

"How's it going with Wilson?"

"It's okay. He tends to natter a lot when he gets home, like you."

"Greg, are we kidding ourselves?"

"I figure we have maybe thirty to fifty years left on this earth...might as well use that time to make a few more mistakes, there's plenty of time to get over them."

I had to laugh at his philosophy. It indicated a rather romantic view of life. I had noticed when he was staying with me that he did have a romantic side to him. He frequently brought me tea when he made coffee, rubbed my feet when we watched television, snapped my butt with a towel in the kitchen, picked me up dinner when he'd stop to get some for himself. I did miss having him around the apartment. Sure I enjoyed the freedom of being by myself, but he been good company.

"Okay let's go." I said.

"I'll go break the news to Tiffany."

We got up and I packed my stuff as I watched House pull Tiffany out of the volleyball game and talk to her. Perry came over to say hi. I kept watching Tiffany and House talk.

"What's going on? You keep looking at House." Perry asked.

"He's telling Tiffany goodbye. We're going to start dating."

Peru closed her eyes and shook her head, "Are you daft? He's impossible. You'll run screaming in the end. Don't do it Isibél, you could do better. A lot better."

"This is going to sound like a cliché, but he's different around me. When we're alone he's fun and caring. Sure he could pick up after himself and he hates doing things unless I prod him, but he's tolerable."

"It's your funeral. I hope he doesn't hurt you too much. Uh-oh. Looks like Tiffany isn't taking it very well. Here she comes."

A very angry and crying woman was headed my way. Perry stepped back a little. Tiffany came up to me and pushed me. House was still a ways behind her trying to catch up, his cane going as fast as it could.

"Tiffany, you don't want to do that. I will defend myself." I said calmly. House had caught up and Lisa was running towards us.

Tiffany kicked me and pushed me back. I fell down on the ground, but didn't want to do anything yet, maybe her little tirade would play out without me having to get rough. I could take a lot physically, so it didn't bother me and if it made her feel better, so what?. As long as she didn't go for my face, I could take it.

"You little slut, you just couldn't stop flirting with him, could you? You had to get your hooks into him." She started kicking me. When Greg tried to stop her, she tripped his bad leg, sending him sprawling on the grass.

Now I was pissed. It was one thing to beat me up, another to trip a man who had a bum leg. That was low. I jumped to a crouch position, swung my right leg in an arc, bringing her down on the ground in a flash. I jumped up, straddled her across the waist and aimed my straight hand at her throat. There was now a large crowd around us.

"Now Tiffany, you can continue this tirade or you can be silent for the rest of your life. One more move from me and you're personal remote will be permanently on mute. Now why don't you take those artificially inflated breasts and go back to your volleyball?"

"Uh, they're real." House said from behind me.

I didn't quite get what he said."What?" I asked, quite annoyed that he had ruined my moment.

"Her breasts, they're real."

"For Christ sake's House, give me a little support here."

"I just didn't want anyone to think you were slandering her."

I turned back to Tiffany and I saw a light go on. She rolled and I was now the one on the ground being pinned. I could tell from the roll that she had some training in the 'Don Ho' arts. _Crap, now what? A full blown martial arts demonstration?_

I used all my energy from my core muscles and bucked her to the right while twisting my body to the left. I rolled out from under her and jumped up. She did too. I realized just how tall she was. She took a tai kwon do position. I was taught Indian martial arts, probably the most lethal and least celebrated of all, Verum Kai Prayogam.

I came up and waited for her to make an offensive move. "Tiffany, please stop this. I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me? You little cunning slut. You kept going after Greg and wouldn't leave him alone. You made him feel sorry for you...you knew he was with me and you just kept flirting didn't you?"

"Excuse me? Didn't he tell you that he had been living and sleeping with me before being with you? I'd willingly give him to you if he didn't keep begging me to take him back." I screamed. Everyone looked at House.

He shrugged his shoulder and squinted, "Not quite begged, more like negotiated."

Tiffany tried to kick, but I was too fast and grabbed her leg, pushed it back into her, sending her flying. I could have used a little more force and broken her hip, as it was, she was going to feel it, but she would recover. I knew she would be down though, there'd be no more show for everyone so I turned and grabbed my stuff.

I yelled at the crowd, "Someone take her to the hospital, she's going to need a shot of steroids and pain killers for her hip."

Tiffany was holding her right hip and moaning. I looked at Lisa, "Are we okay? I didn't start it and I wasn't the aggressor. I don't plan on filing any charges against her, so can I go?"

Lisa nodded and I looked over at House, "Well, now that I've won you in a fight, you better make it worth my while." The whole crowd laughed.

House grabbed his things and I followed him in my car to his new house. We walked up and he went over to some french doors and opened them. We went inside and I immediately recognized his furniture. It fit much better in this room. I put my things down and then laid back on his bed, exhausted from the afternoon of swimming, fighting and emotional arm wrestling.

"Would you like something?"

"A nap."

He smiled, pulled my legs up and took off my right shoe and then the other shoe.

I crawled up into the middle of his bed and he crawled up next to me.

We took a nap and woke up around six in the evening when we heard the front door close and some voices. House pushed up into me, letting me know he wanted round two. He took off his t-shirt and board shorts and was ready for duty.

I pulled off my bottoms and tankini top, to reveal my breasts and a lovely elasticband line under them. He didn't seem to care, he was more interested in what was above the line. I was kneeling on the bed and he was laying on his side. He pulled me down and told me to lay face down. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under my hips.

He penetrated me from behind and moved slowly while using his right hand to rub and play with me. I hadn't really felt like sex, I was still tired, but this was so hot that I soonwoke up. Feeling him so full inside of me along with the sensations coming from his handiwork was making me start to come rather quickly. I know he could feel the intensity of my orgasm because he took a sharp breath with each contraction. I screamed into the pillow because Wilson was home and I was conscious of him being in the house somewhere. But as soon as I felt the contractions end, I knew he was coming. His arms were wrapped around me playing with my breasts when I felt him quickly raise up and thrust hard and fast until he collapsed over my back. He slipped out and backed away. I turned over and he looked spent.

"Are you alright?"

"Just exhausted."

"You don't have to nail me very five minutes."

"I can't help it. I just think about your little cellulite thighs and I get all worked up."

"That's not funny, I work out quite a bit, but the cellulite doesn't go away."

"Oh for Christ sake, you think I care. I made love to you twice today, you really think I was saying to myself, 'oh but that orgasm would be so much better if she didn't have cellulite?'" he was shaking his head.

"You don't get it. I didn't used to have cellulite, it just snuck up on me."

"I love your cellulite. Okay? I wouldn't change anything on your body...except maybe that bullet scar. That's kind of creepy in a woman."

"I got it defending this country and I'm proud of it."

"Well you see this bullet scar? I got it defending a white board...and I'm very proud of it."

I hit him with a pillow, "Go get me something to drink and eat. I need nourishment."

"Come on, you can get it yourself, I'll show you the house."

"Let me get dressed."

"Nah, I think we should start establishing certain conventions and one will be that this house will be a nude zone. Anyone may walk about au natural. You're going to establish that rule today. Get those cellulite thighs out there."

"You first, let's show them Mt. Gregory after the volcano has erupted and there's little left of him."

"Has anyone ever told you you're cruel?"

"Just you."

I grabbed my panties out of the backpack, one of his t-shirts out of the dresser and put my shorts on. He put on some boxers and we went out into the rest of the house. It was really a beautiful house and pretty big for two guys. I loved the kitchen and the french doors leading out to the patio and pool. There was a great view of Lake Carnegie from the kitchen, living and family room. I looked in the refrigerator and could immediately spot the Wilson shelf and the House shelf. House had beer, peanut butter, jam, candy bars and hot dogs. Wilson had leafy vegetables, yogurt, mushrooms, butter, and odds and ends. I pulled out a yogurt, thinking I would replace it later. I heard noise from upstairs and footsteps coming down. It was Perry! My jaw must have dropped because she laughed at me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Perry shrugged, "Jim and I have this on and off thing."

"Oh."

"I came down to get us some beer. Oh, he's only got one of his shelf."

House came out of the bathroom. I handed Perry an Adnams Ale, "Here, you can have this, I just stole one of Jim's yogurts."

"Hey, don't be givin' away my beer!" House tried to take the beer out of Perry's hand but I got in between the two of them.

I yelled at Perry, "Run Forest, run!"

She took off up the stairs laughing. House grabbed me up in his arms and said, "You owe me now."

"Oh, pishaw! I stole a yogurt, they stole a beer. This yogurt isn't going to last me long, you need to buy me a proper meal."

He became indignant, "Oh really?"

"We need to run by my place so I can get cleaned up and dressed."

"Let me get cleaned up and we can go."

He got ready and then drove me over to my place. While I was in the shower, he sat on the toilet lid and talked to me. We were trying to figure out where to go on a Saturday night that wouldn't be packed. He stood up and opened the shower door, not to join me, but just to look at me.

"Gee, take a picture, it lasts longer." I was speaking sarcastically. He grabbed his cell phone and I tried to bat it away. "I was just joking, no nude photos."

"Just for me."

"Oooohh no! It will be all over the internet in the morning. No nude photos. He smiled, pretended to put it away, but had palmed it. He snapped the photo and I was furious. "When I get out, that cell phone is history."

"Come on, you look really hot, except for your Manson eyes..." He went back over and sat down on the toilet lid. I didn't realize it, but whenever I was with him, my bathroom privacy would constantly be compromised.

I got out and toweled off. He grabbed me around the butt and pulled me in to kiss my belly. "If I weren't so worn out, I'd have you right now."

"Now let me go. I'm hungry and you need to feed me." I said as I pulled away.

"Where's the cell phone?" He handed it to me just a little too easy. I deleted the photo and then asked, "Gee, I see a little slot here on the side, could that be for a scandisk?

You wouldn't have a little card on you that you saved my photo to, now would you?" He wouldn't answer but I could tell he was hiding one. I went in and got dressed in a shirt and some shorts. He followed me into the bedroom.

"Why don't you pack up some clothes and bring them over to my place? That way we won't have to always run back here."

"Present tense...present tense. You make too many assumptions about the future."

"Well, start small. Bring a toothbrush and a robe."

I nodded and grabbed my little robe and a new toothbrush. He brushed some hair back from my face and kissed my nose. We left and went to dinner at a little Mexican restaurant. In the end we went back to my place. We watched _Die Hard _which I loved because I got to see Alan Rickman at his finest. I thought he was so good looking in both _Die Hard _and _Robin Hood _even though the only thing worth watching in Robin Hood was Rickman. Greg fell asleep half way through the DVD. I woke him up and he followed me into the bathroom, we brushed our teeth and went to bed. On Monday I entered the hospital and encountered at least a dozen people who gave me pretend martial arts chops. I was quite embarrassed. At least another dozen people shook their heads at me and warned me that I was making a mistake with House. I wanted to hide my head in the sand. Instead I pulled back my shoulders and smiled. I received a text message and a photo emailed to me. It said, "Hot. This photo

is of my really hot girlfriend. Up popped a photo he had snuck of me asleep with my mouth wide open, probably snoring. I took a detour to his office, I had forgotten to get that scandisk.

I cruised by his office and saw that he was on writing on the whiteboard. Therewere two things I had never seen House do that I knew he was good at, one was diagnose someone and the other was play his piano. Oh, sure, he had diagnosed me, but I didn't see it happen, I just woke up and knew I was feeling better. He didn't see me but I could hear him ranting and raving about the lack of his team's intelligence.

They all seemed to be taking it in stride. He had a lollipop in his mouth and had finally spotted me. He opened the door and grabbed my hand, pulling me inside. He reached his arms around my waist and stood there, "Now boys and girls, you go run those tests and I'll just nuzzle my girlfriend here." He waved the doctors away. Then he leaned back on the table to look at the whiteboard. He soon ignored me and concentrated on the symptoms that were before him.

I ignored him. I went into his office and started to look around for the scandisk. I sat down at the computer and looked for any JPGs that had been loaded. I found the one that he had sent me, but not the nude one. Smart. He was learning.

He came in and smiled like the Wiley Coyote. "Well dear, did you find what you wanted?"

"I'm going to find it and when I do, you are in trouble my friend."

"Why don't you come over and have dinner tonight. We could play Battleship."

I cracked up, "You just spent the weekend with me, don't you want a rest?"

He sincerely looked surprised, like he hadn't considered taking time off. "Well?"

"Okay, on one condition, you play the piano for me."

"I haven't played piano for you?"

"No."

After work, I grabbed some clothes and went to his House. I sat in the dining area next to the family room while House unpacked our Thai food. Jim came in.

"House, hi Isibél, how are you?"

"Fine Jim."

"House. If you sneak in any more clothes into my dirty hamper to wash, I'll burn them. Do your own damn laundry."

"You were the one who wanted the laundry room, I was just increasing your opportunities to use it."

"Not funny. Last time you stuck that red polo shirt in with my underwear and now they're all pink."

I had to snicker. The idea of Jim running around wearing pink underwear was just too funny. I apologized, "Jim, I'm sorry. I'll help him do a couple of loads tonight."

"Oh Christ, don't tell me you're an enabler too. Sorry Isibél, that's my job." Jim said as he looked at our food.

I got up, grabbed a plate and put some food on it for him. He grabbed a couple of beers, handed one to House and sat down to eat with us. Wilson asked House about his patient and House looked bored, "She's yours now. We got the results and she has lung cancer."

I couldn't help but grimace, "That's sad."

House raised his eyebrows, "Wilson's whole practice is based on "sad.""

"I don't know how you do it Jim. It must be hard."

House piped up, "Oh, and killing people for a living isn't?"

"I don't want to talk about it Big Boy."

Jim rescued me, "It can be hard. But we're having much more success these days and that's rewarding."

I nodded, that made sense.

We finished dinner and I looked at House and nodded to the living room. I looked at Jim, "I've never heard him play piano."

"You're in for a treat. He's good. He's really good."

We all went into the living room and House asked me what I wanted to hear. I shrugged my shoulders, "I'm sure what I like won't be something you want to play. So choose something yourself."

"Whenever someone says something like that it means that they either want you to play Rachmoninof or Debussy." He glared at me. "Which is it?"

"Debussy."

He smiled and then started playing Clare de Lune. It was so beautiful I started crying. Jim smiled. When Greg saw that I was crying, he almost stopped, but hefinished the piece. I came over and sat down on the bench and he held me while I sobbed. I'm sure I must have seen like a real looser to both of them, but I couldn't stop sobbing. I hadn't cried for her ...ever. I felt safe in his arms, safe to let myself feel howmuch it hurt and how much I missed her.

Greg didn't do anything but hold me until I could talk. I finally got out through the sobs, "My mom used to play that for me. I haven't listened to it since ... I haven't cried for her since she died. I'm sorry." Jim got up and went into the other room and Greg just held me, waited quietly and took his cue from me.

When I had gained control and was quiet, just resting my head on his shoulders,

he finally said, "Most people clap when I play."

I started laughing. I think it was then that I knew I was in trouble, that I might be falling in love. I had never let Alex or Pavel play it for me. Out of all the men I had been with, why did I let Greg House play this for me? What inside of me said it would be okay?

"I think I'll switch genre. How about a song...you'll sing for me?" He looked at me and I finally nodded my head.

I started to pluck out a tune on the piano and he took over. I stood up and yelled, "Hey Jim, it's safe to come out." Only after House played the intro did I realize this was probably not the best song to start out with, but it was one of my favorites.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I cant help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I cant help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I cant help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I cant help falling in love with you

For I cant help falling in love with you

I must have blushed and laughed a little nervously while I was singing, but then I settled down and when I sang the chorus I got up the courage to look at House while I sang. He stared back at me. Jim told me later that he had shivers go down his spine. House hadn't looked at a woman that way since Stacey left.


	20. Chapter 16

**Chapter16**

**MAKE ROOM FOR BABY**

**Over the next week House either spent his nights in Isibél's bed or she spent them in his. Isibél constantly suggested some time off, but House would postpone it, saying he would take the next day off. Even the night of his poker party he showed up after everyone had gone home and knocked on Isibél's door. She knew who it was, just from the knock. He always knocked with his cane. She opened the door and leaned on it, "Go away. You were suppose to stay home tonight."**

**"But I wanted to celebrate with you, I won $212."**

**"It's Thursday night and we both have to work tomorrow. Go home!"**

**"I don't want sex." He looked around and then back at her. Just give me a drink and I'll go."**

**"We both know you won't go."**

**"Here, take the $212. Buy yourself a dress, just let me in."**

**"So now you're paying me for sex?"**

**"Will it work?" He asked tentatively.**

**"No!"**

**"I don't wantsex. Just let me in for a quick drink."**

**Isibél opened the door and let him in. He looked her up and down. She was standing there in her long t-shirt gown that said, "Sometimes When I'm Alone I Google Myself." He snickered and pulled her to him. She pushed back away from him, went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass and the whiskey.**

**While she was doing this he said, "I've got to go pee, I've been drinking sodas and beer all night." He went back towards the bathroom.**

**It took less than a minute before she caught on. She ran back to her bedroom. He was already undressed and in her bed with the light off.**

**"Gregory House!"**

**"Shhhh...he's sleeping."**

**She knew it was no use. He was there to stay and besides, the bed had felt lonely without him taking up most of the room. She went out, locked up and turned off the lights. She crawled in and he crawled over, spooning her and going to sleep with his head on her pillow.**

**In the morning he was all smiles, having gotten his way once again. Isibél knew that this was a sign of things to come. Whenever he wanted something, he would just wear her down.**

**On Sunday she packed a suitcase, went grocery shopping and then went over to House's place. He had given her a key to the house and she let herself in. He wasn't back yet from the movies. Wilson and House had wanted to see a testosterone-driven action movie that didn't appeal to Isibél. She put her things in the bedroom and bathroom and then went out to the kitchen with the groceries. She unloaded them and then cooked a roast to shred for a taco salad. Isibél sat down to watch television until they got home.**

**She got up and walked around, looking out at the view. She was nervous and wanted him to get back, now. Isibél was going nuts. She looked at the clock and tried to figure out how long the movie should take and how long it would take for them to drive home. He should be here by now. She heard their voices and the front door open. She didn't run, but she bolted to the front door.**

**She grinned at them, "Hi! How was the movie?"**

**House smiled back, "Eight KIA, which means they're up on _you_ by three."**

**She pinched his cheek, "Not funny. I made taco salads, are you two hungry?"**

**Jim threw his keys on the counter, "I'm really hungry. The bottomless pit over there had the large bucket of popcorn, so he may not be hungry."**

**She gave House a look of disapproval, "Are you hungry?"**

**"I'm hungry. I can eat." House sat down on the couch.**

**"Okay. Because you know you have to eat by 6:00 pm. So, do you want to eat now?" Isibél asked.**

**Jim nodded.**

**"Okay, I've set the table outside, so you guys go out and I'll bring it out."**

**They ate by the pool, but Isibél had a hard time enjoying herself even though House and Wilson were laughing about something. She had been distracted and missed whatever had sent them both into spasms of laughter. She cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. Jim came in with the salad dressing, salt and pepper.**

**"You're worried aren't you?" He asked.**

**Isibél nodded and said, "Uh-huh. I'm just hoping it goes well."**

**"Bordeaux is really great at what he does. And he knows that House will make his life miserable if he makes any mistakes."**

**She snickered. Jim was right. Bordeaux would make sure he was on top of his game. He knew House would make his life miserable if anything went wrong. Now that House had a lawyer for a girlfriend, he was a double threat.**

**"Isibél, you're falling hard aren't you?" Jim asked.**

**"What do you mean?" She was still so lost in thought about the next day that she hadn't registered what he said.**

**"You're falling in love with him, with House."**

**She stared at Jim and then realized he was expecting an answer. She found herself thinking more and more about Greg. She wasn't sure she could admit anything to herself, yet. Her emotions were so close to the surface right now that she was having trouble figuring out what she really felt. She just wanted to get through the next week, then she could stop and think of what all of this meant.**

**"Jim, I'm just worried. Of course I care about him. But in love?" She winced and looked out the window as House sat next to the pool drinking a beer. "Loving House is asking for trouble... Why? Did he say something about it?"**

**"No, but he doesn't have to. House fell very quickly for Stacey too. He's in love with you. But after Stacey, I don't know if he'll admit it, at least not until you do. Just don't hurt him, please. He's not as thick skinned as you would think."**

**"I know he puts up a wonderful facade." She shook her head, grinning to herself, "Jim, you're getting ahead of yourself.**

**Let's just get him through the next week."**

**"You're right."**

**That night House and Isibél both brushed their teeth and then went to bed. He went to his side, Isibél to hers. He scooted over and she held his head on her chest and stroked his hair. "How are you feeling?" she asked.**

**"Hungry."**

**"Well you know you can't eat after 6:00 pm. How do you feel?"**

**He nuzzled her breast. "I'm okay. I'm going to be fine."**

**She hugged him. House kissed her breast and then kissed her mouth. She pulled back, "Do you want to make love?"**

**He smiled like a little boy, "Yes, please."**

**She chuckled. He reached down and rubbed between her legs, kissing her with his tongue feeling hers.**

**"I need to go put in my diaphragm," she said. "It's okay, I have some condoms here."**

**He kissed her lips and then dragged his mouth down her neck and to her nipple. He licked it in circles as she reached down and took his erection in her hand and started to stroke it. He rubbed faster and faster, making her abandon the stroking and focusing on not screaming. She was completely prone, her arms straight out to her side, her legs apart. He grabbed the condom and put it on, kneeling and then pulling her up onto him so that she was kneeling with him when he pulled a pillow up under her. She was elevated just enough for him to penetrate her and thrust until he could ad trouble controlling himself. He pulled out and laid down next to her to continue rubbing her until she was close to an orgasm. She grabbed his head as it rested on her chest. She held his head close to her breast and bucked up with his stroking. It was delicious and then it was over. She grabbed him and held him tight.**

**She was breathing quickly, her heart racing. She waited until she could speak easily. She turned and looked into his blue eyes, "Are you sure?"**

**He snickered, "Of course. I'll be okay. Are you that worried?"**

**"_Of course I am."_ She yelled.**

**"I'll be okay." He yelled back. **

**The next morning they arrived at the hospital and checked in. House filled out paperwork while Isibél sat biting her fingernails. He looked over at her and shook his head. "Stop that!"**

**She looked up, looked at her finger and smiled, "Okay."**

**Dr. Bordeaux came in to see them, "Well, everything looks good. You have any questions?" He looked at both of them.**

**"Dr. Bordeaux, are you sure this is his best chance?" Isibél asked.**

**House snickered, "She's going to chew her nails down to the quick if you don't reassure her."**

**Bordeaux smiled kindly at Isibél. Wilson walked in and smiled at everyone.**

**"Isibél, success in pain relief has been defined as a 50 or greater reduction in pain after surgery such that pain no longer interferes with patient activities of daily living and sleeping pattern and no longer requires routine analgesic pain medication. Our results revealed that the pain of a mechanical-nonthermal nature and intermittent rhythm, the kind House has, is the most responsive to the DREZ surgical treatment so that 90 of the patients suffering from this pain pattern experienced a good long-term pain relief. Yes, there's a chance of problems, but we're going to minimize the risks. Please don't worry. I've done a lot of these."**

**Within a half hour, the surgical nurse had checked House's wrist bands and matched them to the medication. She started an I.V. of prophylactic antibiotics. Isibél was getting sick to her stomach. She had read the statistics, 5 died from the operation, 30 experienced scar tissue causing more problems. She could go on and on, but Wilson put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up.**

**He whispered to her, "You're more nervous than the patient."**

**"I'm used to gun wounds, poison, and traumatic injuries. Neurological surgery on a spine scares the living crap out of me."**

**Cuddy showed up, "I thought I'd stop in and wish you well. Are you okay?"**

**House frowned, "I'm about ready to have someone open my back and permanently block the nerves...no, I'm not okay. But I'm calmer than she is," he said nodding at Isibél.**

**Cuddy looked at Isibél and laughed, "You look scared to death Isibél. I didn't think anything could faze you. House have you filled out an advanced health care directive?"**

**"It's in my chart. I gave it to Nervous Nelly over here. I should have given it to Wilson."**

**Isibél stood up. "No! You didn't give it to me, did you?"**

**House nodded and gave Wilson and Cuddy a look that said, "Isn't she being silly?"**

**"Greg, I don't want to make the same mistake Stacey did and then you hate me forever. Please, let's fill out a new one, give it to Jim."**

**"Sorry dear, but your face is on the tea towel," House said.**

**She looked around at everyone in the room, "Can't you guys talk to him? Wouldn't it be better for him to have a doctor as the one with authority to make decisions?"**

**Cuddy shook her head, "It should be someone he trusts and knows cares about him. That rules me out." Everyone but Isibél laughed.**

**House looked at her, "You're not going to need it."**

**The nurse came in with the first round of anesthesia. "I'll be back in a minute to administer it. Once I do, he'll be out." She looked at Isibél, "We have your cell and home phones, if anything goes wrong or we need you, we'll call. The surgery will take several hours. He'll be out of it for another couple of hours. So you can plan on at least four hours before he's awake. Here's a number to call for an update. The doctor will call you after the operation to let you know how it went."**

**Isibél nodded and the nurse left. Wilson and Cuddy wished House luck and left so that Isibél could say goodbye alone. When they were gone, Isibél felt terribly alone and worried.**

**House was amused. "Did you get this nervous when you were a Spook?"**

**"No! Don't make fun of me. I'm feeling terribly guilty about all this, afraid I've pushed you into this because of rehab."**

**"Come here and give me a kiss. I'm going to be fine and when I get better, we'll go dancing." he motioned with his free arm for her to come over to the bed.**

**"I'll settle for a walk." Isibél got up and the minute she started to move the tears streamed down, "Oh crap."**

**House laughed at her. She bent down, tears getting his face wet. "If anyone didn't know better they'd think you loved me."**

**"They'd be idiots. I don't love you, you're a jerk." She was sobbing.**

**He smiled at her, "I love you."**

**The sobbing stopped abruptly, "No! You can't say that, not now. If you die I'll,never forgive you. You can't say that and then go into a dangerous operation." The nurse came back in. Isibél turned to her and growled, "Wait! Give me one more minute**

**"You want me to say that I _don't _love you?" he asked.**

**"Yes." she nodded violently.**

**"You want me to lie?"**

**"Everybody does."**

**"Okay, I don't love you." House said softly to her.**

**She started crying again and said softly back, "I don't love you either." She kissed him just as the nurse came back and started the I.V. Isibél watched House go under and thought he never looked more handsome than he did now. The nurse came back and checked his vitals. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully.**

**"We're going to take him into the operating room in just a minute."**

**"Okay." Isibel grabbed his limp hand. "You stupid, stupid man. How did this happen?" She put her lips next to his ear and said gently, "I do love you. God, look after him. Let things go well and if you have to take someone, take me. I don't save lives. He does."**

**The orderly and nurse came back in and wheeled him down the hall.**

**Isibél went looking for Wilson. She went to the second floor and knocked on his office door. He yelled, "Come In."**

**"Jim? Can I talk to you?"**

**Wilson saw the red nose, swollen eyes and plaintive look and immediately took pity. He got up and went over to put an arm around her. " Isibél, what's going on? Why are you so distraught over this? He's getting the best care available."**

**"I don't really know. I just feel responsible for him doing it. If I hadn't pushed him through rehab and he still had his Vicodin, he wouldn't be doing this, facing possible death, paralysis, more pain...ahgg." She started crying again.**

**Wilson was flabbergasted. This woman was a rock, a virtual machine in the face of bullets and explosives, but let House go under the knife and she was falling apart.**

**"What can I do for you?"**

**"I want to watch the surgery."**

**"I don't think that's a good idea. You're in pretty bad shape."**

**"I'm in bad shape because I'm not in control. If I'm near him, if I feel like I can protect him, even if I can't, I know I'll feel better. I'm okay with blood and guts. I'm just not okay with being out of the loop."**

**"Okay. I'll take you up to the observation deck. Let's get you some water first."**

**They stopped and grabbed a bottle of water each and then went up to the observation room. Wilson was surprised to find Cuddy, Cameron and Chase already sitting and observing. Cuddy patted the seat next to her and Isibél sat down. The group talked through the entire operation. Sometimes they discussed the procedure, sometimes they talked about House and occasionally they would talk about things totally unrelated to medicine. It helped to calm Isibél down to be around doctors who didn't appear to be worried, even when House's blood pressure fell, no one batted an eye in the observation booth. Wilson had to leave about half way through the operation for an appointment, but he came back just as they were closing House up. When the operation was over, the doctor looked up at the observation room and gave everyone the thumbs up. Isibél started crying all over again and everyone hugged or patted her on the back. The doctor eventually came up and told them that they were able to isolate the nerves leading to the area of the nerve damage and that they had been cut. He had also used some experimental glial solutions to aid in nerve recovery around the surgical area. He was fairly happy.**

**"He'll be in the hospital for two days. Provided he doesn't get an infection, he can go home on the third day and back to work in three weeks. He's pretty strong for his age, especially after all the exercise so I think his chances of a fast recovery are good. He needs to get up and start walking as soon as possible. He'll have some pain as a result of the surrounding nerves being inflamed, but that should go away."**

**"What about the leg pain?" Isibél asked.**

**"It should be substantially less or even gone. Isibél, call me if you have any questions. I'll see House this afternoon and tomorrow on my rounds."**

**"Thank you Dr. Bordeaux. Thank you so much."**

**Isibél went back to her office and tried to work on a few items before going back down to see House. It was noon and he was expected to wake up around 2:00 pm. She was much calmer now and found it easy to concentrate on her work. When she looked up from her work she saw it was 1:45 pm. She smiled, put her things away and started to make her way down to his room. He wasn't out of recovery yet so she went down to the basement, got some food out of the vending machines, and went back up. They were just setting him up in his private room when she got in. Isibél's grin was so wide that her face hurt.**

**She walked into the room and noticed that House was still asleep so she turned on the television and began watching it. She was drinking her diet coke when she heard a voice ask, "Why are you watching Dr. Phil?"**

**She giggled, put down her drink and went to his bed. His blue eyes were heavy lidded. He looked sweet and relaxed. She petted his hair. "That morphine's doing a good job, isn't it?"**

**He looked at the morphine drip and smiled, "For now. Let's see what happens when they wean me off of it." He looked groggy.**

**"The surgery went very well. Dr. Bordeaux thinks you'll make a fast recovery unless you get an infection. So no infections, okay?"**

**He nodded and his eyes started to close. "Oh, by the way, I heard what you said before they wheeled me in. So you_ do_ love me?"**

**"I thought you were out! I should have kept my mouth shut."**

**He giggled, "You moron, I couldn't hear you. I just knew you wouldn't let me go into surgery without saying it."**

**Her mouth dropped open and her eyes squinted in aggravation, "Gregory House, you damn manipulator. I don't know how you do it."**

**"Does it matter?" His voice was starting to slur."I'm going back to sleep now." He closed his eyes.**

**Isibél went back up to her office and got some more work done. When she got back down to his room it was filled with the usual suspects all talking to him. House looked up and yelled, "Hey where have you been?" He turned back to the other doctors, " You'd think she would have been here when I woke up!"**

**"I was. But you went back to sleep so I went and got some work done."**

**He squinted his eyes in thought, "Really? I was awake earlier? Hmm. I don't remember."**

**Isibél was relieved.**

**He laughed at her, "Of course I remember you blurting out how much you love me."**

**Everyone turned to look at Isibél who was now bright red and wincing. Still, Isibel wanted to hold and kiss him.**

**House yawned, "Man, I think I'm going to take a nap..."**

**Isibél rushed forward, "Wait! I just want a kiss." But it was too late, he was out again.**

**"Come on Isibél, let's take you downstairs for a bite to eat and a stern lecture about what you're getting yourself into." Lisa said.**

**House was allowed out of the hospital on the second day after Bordeaux received complaints that he was starting to make the staff's life miserable with his demands. Isibél drove him home and helped him inside with his walker. He hated having to use it, but the nerves at the base of the spine were still somewhat inflamed from the operation making it difficult for him to walk without weakness in his legs.**

**"I'll be glad when I can give this thing to the Salvation Army."**

**Isibél smiled, "Me too."**

**She opened the door to his bedroom and he went inside. He sat down on the bed and then looked at the wall across from the bottom of his bed. There was a thirty-two inch LCD television hanging on the wall. He grinned and asked, "What is that?"**

**"I thought you might like having one in your bedroom. It's my welcome home present." She let go of his arm as he sat on the edge of the bed, "Can I get you something?"**

**"Can you help me get my pants off and get a shower?"**

**"Sure."**

**She helped him in the bathroom with the shower making sure to keep his incision dry. He trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth and put on clean boxers and a t-shirt. Isibél helped him into the family room where she fed him. He asked her to cut his toenails because a couple of them were cutting into his other toes. She wondered why he didn't do it before the operation, but she did it. When it was time to go to bed she helped him to the bathroom and then into the bedroom.**

**"Goodnight Greg, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." Isibél turned to go.**

**House quickly yelled, "Where are you going?"**

**"I'm just going to go up to the guest room and sleep so I won't disturb you."**

**He looked annoyed, "How am I going to get your attention if I need something? What if I have to go to the bathroom? I want you to sleep downstairs. You can sleep with me." he sounded like a small child afraid of the dark.**

**"But I'm just afraid I might roll over and hurt you or something." She said. House had complained occasionally that she liked to sleep balled up, which made it hard for him to spoon her. She was afraid she might bring her knees up into his incision.**

**"You won't. Come on." He smiled sweetly at her, making sure his eyes were big, blue and pitiful, "Please?"**

**She got undressed and into her nightgown and crawled gingerly into bed with him. She was so worried about hurting him that she hung onto the edge of the bed. He crawled over and pulled her to him like a teddy bear.**

**"That's better. Now I'll be able to sleep."**

**He fell asleep before her. She was too afraid to move and her side was getting sore and stiff from laying on it. Finally, he moved just a little into the middle and she was able to turn onto her back. She had just gotten asleep when she was awakened by a hand rocking her back and forth.**

**"Is..Isi... Isibél?"**

**"Huh? What? Oh, Greg? What do you want?''**

**"Can you get me a drink of water?" he asked.**

**"Okay honey." She got up and fumbled her way to the kitchen and poured the glass of water. She came back and found House snoring loudly. She sighed, took a drink and then turned out the light.**

**Once again, she was afraid to move since he had moved back into a spooning position. It took another hour for her to get back to sleep. About two hours later she found herself escorting House to the bathroom. He stood at the toilet waiting to gush forth while she, half asleep, leaned wearily against the sink.**

**He said rather peeved, "I don't know, it doesn't seem to want to come out."**

**"Are you sure you had to pee?"**

**He gave her a frustrated look, "_Yeah_."**

**"Well, while we're waiting for Old Faithful, mind if I have a try?"**

**He shrugged, stepped aside so that she could sit down. She took a pee, stood up, washed her hands and asked, "Did any of those sounds of rushing water give you inspiration?"**

**He shook his head. Isibél helped House back to bed and they fell asleep. An hour later he insisted he had to pee only to have a repeat of the previous event. Isibél realized that there was no way she could go to work for the next few days. House was like a baby, he needed a baby sitter while he recuperated. Plus, she needed sleep. In the morning she called Lisa. "I'm so sorry, I know I'm not entitled to Family Leave, but he really needs me. I'll be back on Monday and work overtime."**

**Lisa laughed, she had never met such a conscientious employee. "Isibél, you're doing a big part of your job by taking care of our best doctor. Don't worry, that's where I want you to be. So is he a handful?"**

**"He's a big baby...every five minutes I'm running to get him something. I am really being patient, but I don't know how long it will last."**

**Lisa giggled, "Better you than me. I'd make him do it himself. How's his pain?"**

**"The leg isn't giving him any pain, just some discomfort. It's the back that's still painful. But I've been cutting back his painkillers and he's doing okay."**

**"Oh, well tell him that Chase and Cameron got engaged and they're getting married in on Valentine's Day."**

**"That's wonderful. I really like them both, they make a very cute couple."**

**"I must run, but don't worry, stay out for today and tomorrow and we'll see you on Monday. Good luck!" She started laughing,"Bye."**

**"Bye." Isibél walked into the bedroom, "Well, I'm yours for the rest of the week. It seems that Cuddy is more than happy for me to wait hand and foot on you."**

**"Hand and foot? That's not true. I'm just a few days out of major surgery. Do you think I like being laid up?"**

**"I was just teasing." But something inside Isibel told her that he did like having her at his beck and call.**

**Isibél turned to take the dirty clothes out to the laundry room. After he watched her leave, House smiled to himself, picked up his orange juice smoothie he asked her to make him, sipped through a straw she scrounged up for him, and turned on the television she had bought him. He liked having her around.**

**House was lounging on the bed watching television when the urge hit. He stood up and leaned on the bed, but couldn't reach the walker which was on the other side of the room. Isibél was on the phone when House called for her. "Greg, just a minute, I'm on the phone." When she got off and went to see him, she found him in the bathroom, angry and upset. He had peed all over himself. "I was trying to get your attention because I needed to go to the bathroom."**

**She felt guilty, "I'm sorry. I was on the phone with my brother, Liam. He's shipping some of my things out to me from California. I'll go get some clean boxers." She came back in and ran a shower for him.**

**"You need to be there to help me." he snapped.**

**"Tsk, of course I will. I'm sorry Greg, I had to take the call, he was calling from California."**

**"What is he shipping?"**

**"He and Dianne have a huge house and garage. He's stored most of my personal things for the last twelve years. I told him that I could take them now. While I was with The Company I wasn't really suppose to have a lot of personal possessions, so that I could change identities easily."**

**For the next few days, Isibél ran around like a chicken with her head cut off trying to meet all of House's needs. Wilson shook his head every time she'd sit and House would call out for her.**

**On Saturday night, Isibél was in the middle of making dinner when House screamed bloody murder for her. His voice rang out through the house startling both Wilson and Isibel. She was trying to put something in the oven and hesitated, not know what she should do. Wilson put a hand up, "I'll go." Wilson walked to the bedroom, stood at the door, "What the hell do you need now?"**

**House growled, "Hey, don't get mad at the victim. I can't help it. I have an itch. I need Isibél to scratch it."**

**Wilson looked at him and said, "You are joking aren't you? You want Isibél to drop everything so she can come and scratch you?"**

**"I can't reach it. Come on, it's just down my back near the incision. I'm afraid if I try to scratch it, I'll just irritate the incision."**

**Wilson went over and sat at the edge of the bed behind House and stuck his hand up House's t-shirt and down his pajama bottoms to the small of House's back where the incision was. He looked down to make sure he wasn't aggravating or scratching anything he shouldn't. Wilson carefully scratched House's back. House had his eyes closed and was squirming a little to get the right angle and started moaning, "Yeah, yeah...oh yeah, that's it. Yeah, ooooo, that's right, that's doing it." House opened his eyes just as Wilson noticed the two women in the doorway of his bedroom watching Wilson with his hand down House's pajamas.**

**Perry was standing there with a salad bowl in her hands, her lips slightly open, her eyes like saucers. Isibél had a wooden spoon in one hand and the other one cupped under it to catch any spills. Isibél's mouth was hanging open. Isibel burst out laughing so hard that she dropped the spoon and its contents.**

**Perry looked at Wilson who had jerked his hand out of House's pajamas. Wilson held up a hand, "I know it looks funny, but he didn't want to put his hand down there and make things worse."**

**Perry's eyebrows went up, "Yeah, right."**

**House said nothing, he was enjoying Wilson's embarassment. He finally said, "I want you to know that I've never enjoyed another man's hands down my pants as much as yours."**

**Wilson turned red and that's when Perry broke up laughing. Seeing Wilson in so much agony was just hilarious.**

**"Well, I guess I can go home now," Isibél said teasingly, "Greg obviously doesn't need me anymore."**

**Wilson got up and ran into bathroom, washed his hands, went out to the family room and flopped onto the sofa in defeat. Isibél handed him a beer and fluffed his hair to tease him. House winked and blew kisses at him all through dinner sending the women into spasms of laughter.**

**Monday couldn't come too soon. Isibél was delighted to know she would be going back to work. She was going nuts being House's lackey. On Sunday she finally screamed at him to get his butt out of bed and start doing things himself, because she wasn't going to be around the following day.**

**"You aren't going back to work are you?"**

**"Why yes, of course I am. I can't stay home to clip your toenails for the rest of my life."**

**"Who's going to take care of me?"**

**"Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn." She marched out to the laundry room to get him some clean underwear. When she got back to her place that afternoon there was already a phone message from House asking when she was going to come home. He sounded desperate, although she was pretty sure that was just an act. She laid down on her bed and smiled. She got back up, packed some things she needed, checked the mail and drove back over.**

**She entered through the french doors, but there was no sign of him. She went to the interior french door. She realized that he must be in the family room so she went in only to see him through the open french doors out on the patio. There was no walker, but he did have his cane and he was using it as a golf club. She was so excited to see him up and moving so smoothly that she almost ran to him. Then it hit her that he had been playing her all week.**

**She stood at the door with her hands on her hips and stared until he realized that someone was watching him. He looked over his shoulder, grimmaced and pulled his cane back into a walking position. He turned around and started to limp towards Isibél.**

**She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.**

**"You owe me big time. You owe me so much, you better just turn over your check book now." she clenched her jaw and wagged a finger at him.**

**"I've only started feeling better today." he moaned as he hunched his shoulders in penance.**

**She ran over to him and hugged him lightly. "I'm really pissed at you, but I'm also excited. It's great watching you prance around like a ballet dancer. How do you feel?"**

**"Okay." He looked down sheepishly and put both his hand on the crook of his cane.**

**"Okay?"**

**"My leg is feeling fine and my back is itching, but much better."**

**"Great then, I'm going home. You don't need me and I need a break from you."**

**His mouth opened and his forehead furrowed and his body collapsed inward**

**"Ah, come on. Don't go home. I need some help."**

**"No you don't."**

**He started to squirm and the words came out like a sour tasting strawberry, "The truth is that I miss you when you aren't here. I'm bored and, well, you don't bore me."**

**"Yeah, you enjoy your puppet on a string."**

**He shook his head softly, "No, I just enjoy you. When you're not here, I spend most my time wondering where you are."**

**"As you're so fond of saying, boo-hoo. You should treat me better then. In the meantime, give me a kiss and I'll be off."**

**He smiled down at her and opened his mouth slightly and covered her mouth with his. Their tongues entwined and then she pulled back.**

**"Oh, I forgot to tell you that Cameron and Chase are getting married on Valentine's Day."**

**He looked at her sideways and said, "You mean Cameron doesn't love me anymore?"**

**She started laughing, "Is that all you can think of? How about, "Isn't that nice for the two of them?""**

**"You don't really believe in all of that, do you?" He laughed, but then he saw in her face that she did believe. He shook his head at her, "They're getting married. They're supposedly promising that they can be faithful and care about each other unconditionally for the rest of their lives. It's a load of crap."**

**She stopped in her tracks and felt her heart sink, "You think marriage is just B.S.?"**

**He realized immediately that he had given away too much about how he felt. He knew most women bought the fantasy of marriage, even if statistics were even-steven on whether a marriage would last beyond the life of a toaster. He smiled and sweetly said, "Isi, we're not hardwired to be faithful our whole lives. We're suppose to spread our seed to mix up the gene pool. Marriage is a contrivance for economic purposes. It's a charade. How many people do you see that are happy or would marry the same person all over again?"**

**He looked at her and it seemed like she shrank inward, her little face collapsing in disappointment. He tried to smile and back track a little, "Hey, I'm sure somewhere there are happy couples still in love after 50 years."**

**"Both sets of my grandparents were still together when until one of them died. They've had some rough patches, but they made it through and really loved each other."**

**He reached forward to hug her, but she stepped back.**

**"I'll see you later." She grabbed her purse and was out the door.**

**"Crap!" House yelled at no one, but himself. He knew better. He once had this same conversation with Stacey after they had been together three years and it went the same way. House looked at his cane and was no longer interested in golf. He grabbed a beer and had a drink.**


	21. Chapter 17

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

I drove home with a heart that felt like it could just sink through the floor at anymoment. What did I expect? He had never been married and he had no excuse for not being married. I at least could claim I was in the CIA, which made it very tricky to find someone, let alone get married. He had five years with Stacey and didn't marry her. That said it all. He had been young, in love and living with Stacey, yet they didn't get married. Maybe Stacey didn't care about marriage, but somehow I doubted it. I suspect that Greg just never got around to asking her.

I thought about it all night long. I expected Greg to show up and worm his way into my apartment, but he didn't. He probably knew I needed the space and time to think. I had to decide if I should continue with the relationship knowing marriage was a longshot. Could I accept that? Did I deserve more? Was I never to know what it would be like to be with a man who was so committed to our relationship that _he wanted _to marry me as much as I wanted to get married? Even Alex had been reluctant to ask me to marry him. It was only when he had sensed that I was about to leave him that he scrambled to get a ring and ask me. Even then, he suggested that we have a long engagement to make sure we were truly compatible.

I laid in bed going over and over in my head the men I had loved and asking myself what went wrong? Why could no man commit to loving me unconditionally?

Alex wanted to own me, not really share and build a life with me. I had understood that and had accepted that, because at least he understood what the CIA demanded of me and was more than happy to build a life that included the Company. But now that I was a civilian, did I have to accept anything less than someone who _wanted_ to commit wholeheartedly to building a life with me?

Why marriage? I guess I was just old fashioned. Marriage was the ultimate commitment to another, legally. It meant that you were willing to entangle your life, your legal affairs, your possessions. It meant that you were willing to bet that it would never be necessary to untangle them. You were saying to the world, I'm willing to risk it all on this relationship.

But Greg obviously didn't share my beliefs on this issue. The problem was that I didn't know if I could walk away from him. If I just thought about Greg, my heart would pick up its pace. I was always on my toes around him. He could make me laugh more than any other person in my life, but he could also hurt me quicker than anyone else. I was surprised as to how thin skinned I was around him. I had fallen in love with Pavel after working with him for six months and Alex after six years. House had taken six weeks. Was this really love? Or just my need to be with someone after leaving The Company?

I arrived at work the next day dragging my butt from the lack of sleep, opened the door to my office and started laughing. There were helium balloons in metallic blue and purple covering my entire ceiling with silver metallic leads that floated just above my head. It was really beautiful. I looked for some sign of who they were from, assuming they couldn't be from Greg since he was at home recuperating. I couldn't find any trace of who had been my benefactor. I called security's office and asked them to fax me the night log. It simply said, "Telephone call, G. House." He had managed to set this up after all. I was amazed at his ability to make things happen when he wanted them to.

Cuddy came up to ask for my assistance on a problem. When she entered the office her chin jerked up to look at the balloons. She blinked her eyes and then shook her head. She turned her attention back to me, "House?"

"Yep."

"He has a romantic streak doesn't he?"

"Sometimes. We've hit a snag."

She smiled, "Tell me about it."

"First tell me what I can do for you and then I'll moan and groan."

"I bought new windows. They're still in warranty, but I can't get the company to come back out and fix a leak. Here's the contract and address. Can you write a letter?"

"I think I can do that."

She slouched back in the chair, "Tell me what happened."

"Not much. We were talking about Cameron's wedding and he let me know that he thought marriage was a stupid idea."

Lisa looked sympathetic. She shook her head, "You didn't really think that you could get House to marry you did you?" She sighed, "Stacey wanted marriage too and it just never happened. Maybe he will be different with you, but don't hold your breath. He's seven years older than when Stacey left him and even more set in his ways."

I couldn't look in her eyes or she'd know just how much I wanted it. I just nodded and said quietly, "I know."

"Isibél, don't do this to yourself. If you want marriage, then you better think twice about dating House."

"Thanks, Lisa. I agree with you, but I don't think I can give up on him right now."

"Your funeral."

"Yeah."

After Lisa left I started working in earnest, trying to catch up. I skipped lunch and by the end of the day my staff was screaming for me to let up a little. I had piled so many letters and assignments on their desks that they were about to mutiny. Around 5:30 pm I received a call on my private line. It was Greg.

"Hello?"

"When are you coming home?" He said it as if it were a given.

"I'm working late. Besides, I'm going to my place after I leave."

There was silence. Finally he said, "Stop by here on your way home."

I thought about it and was about to tell him no, just because he expected me to obey his every whim and I was getting tired of that. I guess he sensed that because his tone changed and he pleaded with me. "Isibél, _please_ stop by on your way home. I want to talk to you."

I shrugged my shoulders unconsciously as I responded, "Okay. I'll be there in an hour or so."

"I'll be waiting."

"Oh, thanks for the little surprise this morning. It was ...it is...sweet." I looked up to see the balloons still hugging the ceiling.

"See you when you get here. Oh, stop and get some beer on your way over."

Before I could complain that I wasn't his slave, the phone went dead. I went back to work and around 7:00 pm picked up my things and left. I swung into the grocery store and bought some Diet Coke and Guinness. I arrived at his house and knocked on the door. He answered, still supported by his cane. I noticed that he was alert and his face was relaxed. The pain that usually kept him so tense appeared to be gone.

"Since when did you have to knock?"

"You know, you share the house with Wilson. He might like the notice before I barge inside. How's your leg?"

He stopped to think as if he hadn't thought about it in awhile, "No pain, just weak."

We were walking to the kitchen together. I put the bag down on the counter and the beer in the frig. I noticed that the dishes were in the sink and not stacked in the dishwasher. Newspapers and trash were laying on the floor in the family room."Well the doctor told you to start exercising. Have you?"

"I'm swimming." He grabbed a Guinness and flopped on the couch. I took a diet coke and went over to the french doors to look out at the pool and landscaping lights. I turned to look at him and he patted the couch for me to come and sit with him. I went over and sat next to him.

"What did you want? I'm tired and want to get home."

"I want you to come and live with me. I want to wake up and find you're still there in the morning."

I shook my head and sighed, "Greg, I don't want to live with someone, I want to get married and have a family. I'm sorry, I know that's the last thing you want."

He grimaced, took a drink and then put his hand over his mouth to wipe away the condensation from the Guinness bottle. "You know I'm not big on marriage, but who knows. Let's live together for awhile and then, if we're still both alive, maybe we could talk about making it legal." He looked deep into my eyes, "Although I still don't understand why you need the government to tell you that you have a good or bad relationship."

"What about kids?"

"One big step at a time. But, I'm not saying I won't consider it."

I thought about my biological clock...the one that was already saying, your chances of getting pregnant go down 20 each year from here on out. "Okay, but I'm not talking years here. I'm not getting younger and if I have any chance of being a mother, I've got to start working on it within the next year or so."

"Well, maybe after we've been together one of us will be willing to compromise."

"Why don't you come and stay in my apartment?"

"It's easier for you to sublease a one bedroom apartment than for me to find Wilson a new roomie. Hey, he won't mind. The house stays cleaner when you're around." He looked at me and could see I wasn't convinced, I'll give him more money."

"You mean I'd live here rent free?"

He chuckled, "If it means you'll do it, yeah, I'll pay the rent. You pay our share of the utilities."

I laughed at that. He wasn't going to support me, but then I really hadn't expected him to. "Okay. When should we do this?" I was thinking of getting my placed subleased, packing and moving.

"Tomorrow. Tonight if you want."

I slapped his arm, "You still need to ask Jim. I'll start working on it tomorrow."

When I left that night I felt both scared and happy. I couldn't help but wonder if I was being played. Would he really think about marriage and kids or was this one of his master manipulations? I knew that when it came to love sometimes you had to just jump off the cliff and hope for a safe landing. I got in my car and drove the streets of Plainsboro with my window down and hair flying.

I moved into the house the following week with Jim's overenthusiastic blessing. "You can be his mother, I'm tired of the job. In fact, if you want to kick him out and just move in yourself, I know a locksmith."

House sneered at him.

The move went well. I had received the boxes from my brother and was going through them, laughing at the things I had saved. "My God, look at this plastic peanut man bank! My brother gave it to me when I was 12 and we used to keep all out secret things inside of his hat."

I opened the hat and inside was a note from my high school boyfriend, "I love you so much. I hope you are okay with what happened. I'll see you tonight.'

House looked at the note, "Well what happened?"

"He deflowered me. I wasn't exactly that willing. At the last minute I tried backing out, but he couldn't...if you know what I mean."

"How romantic."

"He felt so guilty about it that he dumped me the next week. It was okay though, I was going to dump him."

I pulled out outfits that came from decades of rhinestones and Ditto Jeans. There were schoolbooks, photos, hair ribbons, stuffed animals and memorbillia from trips.

"Stuffed animals?" House asked. "Were they for target practice?"

"Ha...ha..." I said sarcastically. I threw one of the stuffed dogs on the bed and immediately received a piercing look from Greg. "Hey, is this my house too or not?'

"Stuffed animals on an adult bed?"

"I haven't had stuffed animals in over twelve years." I put both hands on my hips.

I could care less if there was a stuffed animal on the bed, I just wanted to see how far he would let me go with sharing his space. He was about to open his mouth, but then deliberately shut it and smiled. By the end of the day I had photos throughout the room and my Ansel Adams photograph hanging up in the living room. When Jim came home, he went from room to room looking at my pottery, ceramics and photos that now covered various parts of the house.

"Hmmm. I approve of most of them, but this is strange, what is it?" He said pointing to a forties silver holder with four china cups hanging with four small spoons.

"It's my egg cup set...and in the middle is an egg coddler." I said with enthusiasm. He still looked at it with disapproval. "It's from England!"

He smiled weakly at me.

"Okay, I'll put it in the cupboard. Anything else?"

"No, it looks nice, not so Spartan." He said with confusion in his voice. He was looking behind me. I turned to see House giving him hand signals.

"What?" I yelled at House, "Just say it!"

"Nothing dear." He said facetiously.

"If you want me to remove anything, just say it."

He pulled me over, gave me noogies on my head and then kissed the top of it. "I wouldn't change a thing. Just don't expect Fido to be sleeping on my side of the bed."

I smiled at him and then pushed him away. I went into the kitchen and started dinner.

Fido lasted two days and then I threw him in the closet. We settled into a fairly predictable routine and when we fought, I made Greg do it in our bedroom so that Jim could still feel comfortable in his own house. Oh, there were the occasional spats that spilled over into the family room, but I did my best to control them for Jim's sake. Greg and I fought about the strangest things. Once we got into a fight about flowers. He said his favorite was some exotic thing that only bloomed once in a billion years and smelled like crap when it did. I told him that roses were my favorite and he couldn't believe that I was so pedestrian. When I tried to explain why, he continued to call me plain, boring, normal, uninteresting and several other adjectives until my pre-period hormones could take no more and I disintegrated into a pile of blubbering tears. My fast meltdown took him by surprise.

"Christ, you just proved my point. What's more predictable than a woman crying when she loses an argument."

"I didn't lose, I just can't believe that you'd call me boring because I love roses. What is your problem? Do you hear yourself? You're tearing into me because I like roses! For God's sake Greg, haven't you ever heard of 'Choose your battles?'"

He looked at me and then left the bedroom, slamming the french door and causing the glass to rattle in their panes. I sat on the bed, questioning myself for the umpteenth time as to why I was there. I heard the door slam out front and when I went out to look, he was gone. I expected it. Sometimes he needed to breath after we fought and leaving for an hour or two helped him become human again. If you could ever call him human.

I was watching television when I heard what sounded like the outside french doors to our bedroom open and close. After fifteen minutes or so, I heard the interior french door close and then music from the piano. I wasn't surprised, the piano was his refuge too. I knew that I should wait until he made the first move, which meant he would either play a song he knew I would like or finish and come into the family room.

I started to giggle to myself. He was playing, "Blues in the Night." The lyrics played out in my head;

**_My mama done tol' me, when I was in knee-pants  
My mama done tol' me, "Son, a woman'll sweet talk  
And give ya the big eye, but when the sweet talkin's done  
A woman's a two-face, A worrisome thing who'll leave ya to sing the blues in the night."_  
**

It may not have been one of my favorite songs, but it was played to elicit a response from me and so I knew that I was being invited into the living room. I got up with my water bottle and went into the living room, leaned against the wall and watched him. He looked up, but didn't smile or give me any sign of truce. However, he didn't scowl at me either, which meant we were on our way to making up.

When he stopped playing he patted the bench next to him and like the little puppy I am, I went to him. He started playing again with me sitting next to him, sitting in silence. After a few more songs he turned to me.

"I can't think of a flower more befitting you. Just when the rose lures you in with it's beauty and fragrance, it pricks you with it's thorns." He made a face about three inches from mine. We stared at each other a few seconds and then he kissed me. We started to explore each other under our shirts and I was afraid that at any moment Jim might come home. So I got up, pulled his hand and we started towards the bedroom. When I flipped on the light I threw my hands up over my wide-opened mouth. There were two dozen deep red roses in a vase, taking up my entire nightstand and a single rose on the bed.

"You are so frustrating sometimes." I turned to him and started to undress him in earnest. He pulled my shirt up and over my head, unlatched my bra and within seconds we were entangled, making love.

Later he stroked my hair and looked into my eyes, "Are you happy?"

The question scared me. Why was he asking it? Was he going to tell me that he wasn't and that we should break up? Why would he bring me roses and then do that? Why did Greg do anything?

"Why are you asking?" I searched his eyes for some signal. When he failed to convey any answer I answered him, "Yes, I'm very happy."

His voice sounded childlike, both innocent and scared, "I am too and sometimes I can't believe it. I have to test it, try to make myself miserable, but I can't." He took a breath, " I mean, I have good days and bad, but that underlying misery that I carried for so long has slipped away and I'm not sure who I am anymore."

I snickered, "You could have fooled me. You're tongue hasn't gotten dull. But, I think I know what you mean. Your face is brighter, more relaxed. I'm glad you're happy, but remember that I'm human and testing me all the time may just wear me down."

"You're tough." He said and then started blowing air farts on my stomach.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim, Perry, Greg and I went out hiking on a flat stretch of woods outside of Princeton when the leaves began to turn in late September. We had a picnic by a creek and it was there that Jim took a great picture of Greg and I. We were both smiling and Greg had me wrapped up in his arms facing towards the camera. His head was leaning against mine. I made Jim print the photo and I had it professionally framed. It hung in the hall where I could see it before and after I went to work. It always made me smile.

James went home for Thanksgiving and my brother, Kieran, brought his girfriend down to stay with us. We were going to have a big turkey dinner and play games.

"Dude!!!" I yelled as I opened the door.

Kieran bent down, swept me up in his arms and said, "Dudette!"

We gave each other a big peck on the mouth and then he put me down. I smiled at the pretty brunette standing next to him. She had almond shaped green eyes and must have been 5'10" next to his 6'4". She was breathtaking.

"Kathleen, this is Isibél, my ugly sister."

I turned to the smiling girl and smiled warmly back. "I don't know how you can stand going out with him," I teased. We shook hands.

"I'm so glad to meet you, Kieran says really mean things about you all the time." We both laughed knowing that it wasn't true. Kieran and I had a special bond and loved each other dearly. I liked the fact that she could tease right back.

"Come in and meet Greg." I opened the door wide and helped them in with their luggage.

Kieran gave me a look of disapproval, "You decided to live with that frumpy looking jerk? What's gotten into you?"

"I know. Cut me some slack. He's good to me and I'm used to living with jerks, I lived with you and Liam."

"Funny, ha,ha."

We went into the family room and found Greg in the kitchen getting a beer. He turned, looked seriously at Kieran and asked, "Want a beer or shall we just cut the crap and go wrestle out back? I have to warn you, I fight dirty."

Kathleen's jaw dropped, but Kieran laughed. "I'd kick your ass."

"Yeah, but I'd still get the girl in the end." He smiled.

"You better treat the girl better than you did before," Kieran said still smiling.

"Beer?" Greg held up a Modelo Negro.

"Yeah, sounds good."

Greg looked at Kathleen, "Beer?"

She looked at Kieran to see if it was okay to take something from this jerk. She turned back to Greg, "Sure."

Greg gave them both beers and grabbed a diet coke for me.

Kieran looked at me, "Not drinking sis?"

"You know I don't like beer."

"They don't serve it in Spook Central." Greg said, taking a swig and sitting down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. "You're only allowed to drink Stoly at the Farm."

Kieran laughed.

"Spook Central?" Kathleen asked.

I stepped in, "Kathleen, let me show you the guest room." I scooped her up and practically ran her upstairs with the smaller suitcases, leaving Kieran in the same room with Greg. I wasn't sure that was such a good idea, but I wanted to keep the subject off of my background. She seemed happy with the accommodations and so I went downstairs again. Kieran and Greg were both sitting down watching wrestling.

"Don't tell me you like wrestling?" I asked Kieran.

"Yeah, don't you remembered I wrestled in school just before Mom died."

"You mean your Dad ran her over." House said nonchalantly.

Kieran thought about his rude remark and then responded, "Yeah, before the assh0le ran her over."

My brothers adapt easily to people, places and situations so I wasn't sure if he was responding because he was being polite or because he accepted House as a friend. I thought I would wait and gauge it later.

Thanksgiving went well. Before we stuffed it, Greg grabbed the turkey by the drumsticks and slapped it on the butt a few times, "Wake up you idiot, you're headless and about to get mushrooms stuck up your ss."

Kieran thought it was hilarious and even Kathleen, who was having a hard time warming to Greg, giggled. I grabbed a knife, "Put the turkey down and move away from the counter and no one will get hurt." House pretended to be scared, dropped the turkey and backed away with his hands in the air.

After dinner, we called Liam pretending to be the Butterball Staff. "Sir, we understand that you cooked a Butterball Turkey from lot 104823 this afternoon. Can you tell us how you all feel?"

"What?" He couldn't understand why Butterball was calling him. But then we could hear him put a hand over the receiver and ask his wife, "Honey, did we eat a Butterball Turkey?" He turned back to our conversation, "We ate a Butterball, but I don't know what lot."

"This is important sir, we need to know the production lot to know whether to send out the response team."

"Honey where's the wrapper for the turkey?" There was a pause, "Well look for it."

I wanted to stop it because I knew that Dianne would be dumpster diving right about now in their trash can, but Kieran pushed me away from the receiver and put a finger up to his lips.

"Well, what's wrong with the lot?" Liam asked. "Are they bad?"

House said seriously, "Yes sir. Have you ever seen a turkey when it goes bad?"

"No, no what happens?"

"They start hanging out in gangs, smoke mesquite, get stewed and the dark meat starts making fun of the white meat. It's not pretty."

We were roaring. My brother spewed out, "Who is this? That's not funny."

There was a click. It took us a few minutes to stop laughing so that we could call back. We used Kieran's phone so that his caller I.D. would show. My brother answered his phone.

"Hey Li, it's Kieran and Kathleen. We just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving.'

"Christ, I almost didn't pick up. I just got a prank call from some dufus claiming to be from Butterball. I had Dianne going through trash looking for a wrapper because of it."

"You mean you fell for the old Butterball gone bad joke?"

"Yeah, why? Did someone play it on you?"

"Uh, no. Just heard about it. Hey we're here at Isibél's house with her boyfriend, Greg. Isi wants to talk to you, here." He handed the phone to me.

I talked to my brother for a few minutes and then Kieran got back on. We had a few laughs and then hung up. We never told him it was us. We could hear in our brother's voice that he was pissed and wouldn't have appreciated the joke. We'd tell him later and then get him laughing too.

The weekend was a success, mostly because Greg kept his sarcasm to a tolerable level. One night, Kieran came down to get a drink of water and caught us cuddling on the couch watching television. The next day, just before they left, he said, "When no one is around he shows you a lot of affection, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he's not all sarcasm and wit. He's good to me and he's funny. We have a good time together. So when are you getting married?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Hey, you've been dating Kathleen on and off for a year, I've only known Greg for four months."

"I plan on asking her at Christmas."

I jumped up and down and hugged him. "Oh wow! That's just great sweetie. I'm so happy for you."

"Yeah, well I'd feel better if I knew you were settled."

"We're happy for now. Let's just see where it leads us. So, will the wedding be in Boston?" I was grinning and shaking with excitement.

"Probably. Hey, don't let on. I told her that I never wanted to get married."

I thought about what Greg had said to me. "That was mean. You're lucky she didn't break up with you."

"Well, she stuck in there and wore me down. Now, I can't imagine not being with her."

"I'm happy for you." I kissed his cheek and then thought about what he said. He gave me hope. My brother was a sworn bachelor and this was a huge step for him. If he could change his mind, maybe Greg could too.

When they left, I was a little sad. I enjoyed being with my brothers and when I was at the Farm, there were years I had to go without seeing them. Even when I worked at Langley, I was always being sent for reconnaissance to foreign countries, taking up most of my time in travel and reports.

"My brother likes you." I told Greg as I began the laundry that had accumulated over the last few days.

"Yeah, surprisingly, he didn't get on my nerves."

_That's about as close as he gets to admitting he likes someone._ "Well, I'm glad. He's going to ask Kathleen to marry him at Christmas." I waited for a response, but got none. "They're going away for Christmas, why don't we go away too?"

That got his attention. "Why?"

I jerked my head back, "To have a little fun? Get away from it all?"

"I thought you would be tired of traveling. Doesn't your passport read like a world globe?"

"No, because I don't travel on my personal passport. I have a few stamps from some vacations, but obviously I've traveled much more extensively than my passport says." I sat down on the couch next to him, "It's going to be cold, why don't we go to Mexico or Hawaii?"

He frowned. "I'm not much up for travel."

"Okay, but you won't mind if I go then, will you? I have itchy feet and just feel like getting away."

He tilted his head and blinked. His eyes narrowed along with his forehead and he looked serious, "You'd leave me alone at Christmas?"

"You're a big boy. Either come with me, or stay home. It's your choice."

"Where are you going?"

"I think I'll fly down to Merída on the Yucatan pennisula. I once lived in a villa for two months down there and loved it."

"Two months? With who?"

I smiled and snickered, "I'd have to kill you if I told you."

He gave me a phoney smile to show his disapproval. "How long are you going?"

"Just a week. Our department shuts down from December 23rd to January 2nd ."

"What are you going to do?"

"Eat, drink and be Merry."

"Be merry?"

"You know, find a cute Muchacho and get laid." I teased him, but he didn't smile. "I'm joking. I'd shop, see the ruins, lay on the beach, go to Cozumel and Isla de Mujeres...you know, be a tourist."

"But it's our first Christmas together." he moaned.

"We're adults, it isn't like we have children. You could have some time off from me and go out with Wilson."

He said nothing, but I got the cold shoulder the whole night long. He was good at harboring ill feelings. He had a hard time letting them go. I was starting to get mad at him for trying to make me feel guilty so I went ahead and started looking for travel deals to the Yucatan peninsula. I purposefully left the internet on one website so he would see it and maybe ask me to book him a trip too. I saw him looking at the screen and moving the cursor around, so I figured he was thinking about it.

At dinner we had beef ribs, green beans and mashed potatoes. He was picking his teeth when he finally decided to talk to me, the first time in two days. "I don't' want you to go to Mexico." He said it with the authority of a Pakistani father who was giving an edict to his young daughter.

"Yeah, and I don't want you to snore, but there you have it. I'm booking the trip tomorrow. Please come with me."

"You really don't care how I feel about this do you?"

"Greg, you always tell me you regretted never taking Stacey to Paris when she wanted to go so badly – why she wanted to go there, God knows – so stop sitting around molting and come spread your wings. Come with me to Merída."

"Can we have sex on the beach?"

"You mean alá _From Here to Eternity_ or in a cabana on the beach? I have to warn you, sex on a beach is kind of messy and gritty, not as romantic as it looks."

"I just don't want you down on a beach alone."

"Because I'm so smokin' hot with my cellulite thighs that all the guys will want to nail me? Or you're afraid I'll forget the sunblock and come home looking like steamed lobster?"

"A little of both."

"Come with me."

"Okay."

It sounds like we disagreed or fought all the time. But we didn't. We spent a lot of our time laughing at each other and with each other. I loved to hear him laugh because he spent so much energy trying not to laugh. His laughs often came out stilted and muffled. Only rarely did I hear a true belly laugh out of him and, even then, he'd try his best to control them.


	22. Chapter 17 Part 2

**It sounds like we disagreed or fought all the time. But we didn't. We spent a lot of our time laughing at each other and with each other. I loved to hear him laugh because he spent so much energy trying not to laugh. His laughs often came out stilted and muffled. Only rarely did I hear a true belly laugh out of him and, even then, he'd try his best to control them.**

**When we were apart I berated myself. How could I let a man turn me so inside out? How could I abandon my feminist ideals and instead find myself smelling his t-shirt before I put it in the washer? I hated myself for it. And yet, I loved his mind, his talent, his lyricism, his cynicism, his wit, his churlishness, his laughter, his eyes. I hated him for it too. I never knew so many emotions of polar opposites could exist in a person.**

**At the staff "End of the Year" party (the new politically correct way for saying, "Christmas Party") House put on a sweater, jeans and a head-band that had antler ears on it. I wore a Santa Dress with a big black belt, white ermine details and big high black boots. It was fun. House put some mistletoe on one of his antlers and kissed as many women as would let him. I had a lot of offers from guys to sit on my lap and let them tell me what they _really_ wanted for Christmas.**

**We joked with everyone and opened our gifts. My secret Santa gave me a karate outfit with my name on the back and a big black belt. House received several packages of Fleet's Enemas and a bottle of good scotch. We laughed so hard that I had to loosen my big black belt.**

**Our trip to Merída started out idyllic. Greg's leg was in good walking form. He used the cane, but only for support on grades where he could use the extra leverage. We went to all the Mayan ruins. He offered me to our guide as a sacrifice to the Gods. I offered to be one just so I could get away from him. On Christmas Day, I gave him his wish and we made love on the beach. It was gritty and messy, just as I told him it would be, which made him suspicious. "How did you know?"**

**"Been there, done that and paid the price for months with sand up my crack."**

**We drank tropical drinks and he pretended to be Hemingway, sucking back scotch, wearing a Panama hat, sunglasses and a white suit. We even went dancing one night. He was so smooth on the dance floor that several women came up and asked him to dance with them. He did and on occasion I felt a pang of jealousy when he would dip one of them or they would press their bodies against his groin. I sat drinking a Margarita and wishing I was in his arms. **

**I got up and went outside for a breath of air. A latin-looking man with deep brown eyes and impeccable tailoring approached me. He was gorgeous. "Your boyfriend shouldn't let you out of his sight. I might have to kidnap you and keep you to myself.'**

**"Uh, how charming." I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Being a former agent, I took it seriously. I soon found out he was just flirting.**

**"Dance?" He held out his hand. We danced on the balcony to the music, the smell of Star Jasmine and the sea breeze filling up all of my senses. We did a Marimba, hugging each other as we swayed like branches bending in the breeze. He brought his face close to mine and then twirled me away from him, flirting like only a Latino can. We were in perfect sync, his arms wrapping and then unwrapping me like a present. I could feel his warm breath on my neck. As the song finished I looked over at the door and saw Greg smiling at us. I smiled back. My partner saw him too and gently let me go, bowed to me and to Greg and disappeared.**

**"I can't let you out of my sight, can I? It must be that Company Mysterioso vibe you give off that attracts the men." He smiled as he crossed the balcony to my side. He pulled me to him. **

**I could feel the start of an erection and I chuckled. "Do you get off seeing other men touch me?"**

**"You have to admit, it was a rather erotic dance you two were doing. You looked beautiful. You are beautiful." He bent down and kissed me. I reached up and took his face in my hands and kissed him back. He ended the kiss, pulled back and looked at me as if he wanted to burn the vision into his brain. "I love you, Isibél. I wish I didn't love you as much as I do. It really scares me."**

**"I know." I pulled his face back down to mine and we kissed again.**

**He grabbed my arm and took me down to the empty patio below, underneath the balcony. He sat me up on one of the tables and slipped my panties off. We had no protection, something that made my heart flutter as I felt him inside of me. It was quick, it was hot and although I didn't have an orgasm then, I felt satisfied with just with just him inside me. I knew that he had calculated in his quick mind that having sex without birth control would be safe since I had just finished my period. But still, the spontaneous sex without all the precautions we usually took gave me a glimmer of hope. Of course, 25 days later I had my period and there was no little miracle, but still I had hope that one day he'd slip up and his calculations would be off.**

**The day before we were suppose to leave, I got Montezuma's revenge...with a revenge. I usually didn't get sick on my travels. I had all my shots...everything from Dengue Fever to Rabies. But there was always the possibility that food poisoning would hit. I realized during my first trip at 2 am to the bathroom (while House snored away) that I must have eaten something because my insides were cramping and all hell broke lose. I had to think back to what I had eaten for dinner. I had the shrimp. I looked at the comfortable Greg House sleeping like a baby, he had the filet mignon. By 5 am I was trying to call to Greg from the bathroom so he could help me, but he kept snoring.**

**"Damn it House, wake uuuuuu..." I felt my stomach heaving, despite the fact that there was nothing left but bile to puke up. I was exhausted, dehydrated and starting to run a fever. I tried to get up and go wake him physically, but the more I moved, so did my bowels and my stomach. I started crying out of frustration. I had a doctor thirty feet away from me and couldn't get him to wake up. I grabbed a glass and threw it at the direction of the bed while yelling, "Greg, help me!"**

**I heard a groan and then silence. A few seconds later, after I puked again, I heard, "Isibél?"**

**"Greg, help me." I started to relax knowing he was awake.**

**He came into the bathroom, scratching his genitals and looking very much like he was going to go back to sleep at any moment. The smell from the bathroom hit him and he immediately woke up. "Jesus, did something crawl up inside you and die?"**

**"I've got food poisoning and I've started running a fever."**

**"Christ." He walked over to the sink and grabbed a washcloth, wet it and cleaned my face. "Did you bring any Immodium?"**

**"Yes. In the small bag."**

**He went and got the bottle, grabbed a bottle of water from the night stand and brought it to me. He washed my face again, took a towel and cleaned up around the toilet and watched as I took the medicine.**

**"You're really dehydrated. I need to go get you some oral salts and some antibiotics. Stay here." He realized how stupid that sounded and giggled. "Like you're going to get up and run away."**

**"Don't leave me! I almost passed out the last time I threw up."**

**"You moron, I have to get the medicine or you're going to go into shock. What did you have for dinner? I don't remember."**

**"Shrimp."**

**He nodded, remembering that, because I only had five shrimp, I had refused to give him any. He snickered, "Gee thanks for being so selfish! It paid off...for me."**

**He grabbed the key card and his wallet and took off. I felt a spasm come over me as I tried to throw up again. Just as I finished the dry heaves, my gut claimed siege to the toilet. I didn't know what end to aim at the porcelain God. I felt the spasm coming and realized I was blacking out just as my head hit the wall and I slid to the floor.**

**It must have been a lovely site, me with my panties down around my knees, butt in the air and my head lodged in the corner between the wall and the bathtub. I felt his hands and arms trying to scoop me up before I heard his voice.**

**"...blood with this washcloth. Damn I leave you for half an hour and you go head diving. Isibél, can you hear me?"**

**I was trying to focus, but my eyes were twirling around in their sockets.**

**"Jesus, honey. You're going to need saline or Ringer's lactate. I better call the hotel doctor."**

**I heard him flush the toilet, and start to fill the sink with water. I felt the cold washcloth go over my head and face, giving me some relief from my discomfort. He pulled the t-shirt I had worn to bed up and over my head, washed down my chest and then picked me up. He took me into the bedroom and laid me down on the sheets. He went back into the bathroom and grabbed something. I heard something clinking in a glass like it was being stirred and then I felt an arm behind my back, lifting me up.**

**"Isibél, drink this."**

**"I can't, I'll just throw it up."**

**"Just take a few sips at a time then." His voice was firm with no room for argument. **

**I tried to sip it, but it tasted too salty. "Ugh, what is it?" I tried to open my eyes and look at it, but my head was twirling around like it was a globe loose on its axis.**

**"Oral salts to hydrate you. I got the pharmacy to give me intravenous antibiotics, so you're going to feel a prick."**

**"I felt a little one earlier," referring to our earlier love makin. I tried to smile, but I couldn't control my face.**

**"Am I suppose to laugh at that?" he said without any humor.**

**"You know...sex, little prick...ha,ha?" I think one side of my face smiled.**

**"You're really sick ...and I don't mean physicially." **

**I didn't know why he wasn't laughing at my little joke, but frankly, I didn't care. I felt the needle go in and yelped. **

**"Give me a break. You get shot and beat up, but you can't take a needle?"**

**"Look, stop giving me a ration of crap, I feel like hell and the prick hurt...both times."**

**"Okay, I'm going to call for a drip. I might be able to get them to deliver it here so we don't have to go to the hospital."**

**I started to go in and out of a fever-induced sleep. I could hear House speaking fluent Spanish, or at least it sounded fluent, to someone. I could feel another spasm of nausea and a cramping in my stomach. I rolled over and vomited over the side of the bed as far over as I could. **

**I heard the phone hang up and House came back over. He left and came back with a towel to clean up what little I had thrown up. "I don't think you threw it all up, so that's good. Keep taking sips, we need to get you hydrated. The hotel doctor is on his way with saline."**

**I grabbed his arm, "I'm sorry honey."**

**"You should be. You're putting a real damper on my fun."**

**I smiled and he bent down, kissed my forehead and said, "Oh, I almost forgot that I left you topless. I better get you into a t-shirt before the doctor gets up here and wants to jump you. You're not up for sex are you?"**

**"Funny, ha,ha."**

**He brought a t-shirt over and dressed me. There was a knock at the door and a thin, intelligent looking man (at least I think he was thin and intelligent) came into the room. He and House spoke for a few minutes. I realized that the man knew Greg by reputation and was waxing profusely about Greg's achievements. I was a little miffed because I just wanted him to stick me with the saline and then leave me in peace so I could try to sleep.**

**The doctor stuck a thermometer in my mouth for a few minutes. After he took it out I heard them talk about how high my fever was, but the part of my brain that could translate Spanish was fried. I gave up. Then I felt another little prick (third time that day) and could feel the saline going into my veins with a cool, refreshing feel. House was adjusting the saline drip, "I didn't think I was going to get that in on the first try. Your veins are collapsing." I guess he was saying it to me, because it was in English or maybe Russian, at that point I wasn't sure.**

**I said nothing, I no longer had the energy to respond. I heard House conversing with the doctor, I heard some farewells and then the door closed. Greg moved around the room, turned on the television and climbed into bed next to me. I couldn't open my eyes without them burning so I simply said, "Goodnight honey."**

**"I'm going to wait an hour before I go back to sleep to see if your fever goes down. Do you feel like you still have diarrhea?"**

**I shook my head.**

**"Good, the Immodium is working. What about throwing up?"**

**I nodded.**

**"Well, we still have to get some of the organic salt solution down your throat, so come on, I'm going to hold you up and you take a few sips, okay?"**

**I shook my head in protest.**

**"Don't give me that crap. You're going to take some sips or I'll pour it down your throat. Do you understand?"**

**I nodded. I took the sips of water and kept them down. I drifted back to sleep and eventually woke up around noon. The saline drip had been removed, the water I had been sipping was half gone and House was turned on his side snoring.**

**I could tell that the worse was over. I wasn't feeling like I was going to puke and that was half the battle. Greg turned over, sensing that I was awake.**

**"How do you feel?"**

**"Like I'm going to live. Barely."**

**"Good, because our flight leaves tonight."**

**"I know. Thanks for taking care of me."**

**"You're just lucky you have me for a boyfriend. You were dangerously close to being hospitalized ...in Mexico!"**

**"Mexico would be a joy compared to the Uganda hospital I ended up in with Dengue Fever. Or the Siberian one I spent a week in when I was hit by a car...on purpose I might add."**

**"Well, I'm hungry. Do you want me to go out to eat or can I order in?"**

**"What's the difference?"**

**"I wasn't sure if you wanted to see or smell food just yet."**

**"Oh, it's okay. Do whatever will make you happy."**

**"Unfortunately, that has nothing to do with food ...I'll order in."**

**I lay there thinking that it was strange to have Greg taking care of me. He wasn't exactly the nurturing kind. But, despite the occasional comment about the smells and my looks, he had been very sweet and more than helpful. I wanted to hug him and tell him how much I appreciated it, but until I cleaned up, I didn't think he'd really want me slobbering all over him.**

**Towards afternoon I was able to climb into the shower and clean up. He did most of the packing and by six pm we were on our way to the airport. He had pulled me over and put his arm around me so that I could rest my head on his chest as we whisked through the streets of Merida.**

**"Did you ever get food poisoning when you were a spook?" he asked.**

**I chuckled, despite all the spy novels out there, we are human. And because we travel a lot, we tend to get _Tourista_ on occasion. "We lost an agent to food poisoning in Nicaragua. I've had it a few times."**

**He leaned his head back on the seat. After a minute or so he said, "Well, so much for our trip to get away."**

**"Oh come on, admit that you enjoyed it. Look, you para-sailed, snorkeled, climbed ruins, laid by the pool, drank, ate and babysat a gorgeous woman who had her head in the toilet. What more could you want from a vacation?"**

**He had now seen me at my worst and still wanted to keep me around. I was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he'd see that this could last and that marriage wasn't so far fetched.**


	23. Chapter 18 Part 1

**CHAPTER 18 (PART 1)**

**REALITY KNOCKING **

**January was exceptionally cold and so both House and Isibél spent longer than usual hours at the hospital. Isibél thought it was funny that it was usually House who called her to touch base. He called at least twice a day, once before lunch and then again, around four. He occasionally came up when he was bored. He'd plop down across from her and then start shooting spit wads at her while she was on the phone or make one of his silly faces. This continued until once when she was on the phone with the court, he mooned her and she through a stapler at him in response. He ended up with a large bump on his head. He behaved from there on out.**

**There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Isibél had a positive effect on House. He wasn't an angel and he still gave Cuddy heartburn. But at least she had someone in the hospital that could reason with him and the staff reported, cautiously, that he didn't create havoc every time he showed up. The fact that he laughed and smiled more often was proof enough for Wilson that House was different with Isibél around.**

**"You're happier." Wilson emphasized by pounding his desk.**

**"I'm not in as much pain, except when I get home and find out that you're still living there."**

**"No, you're happier since Isibél has been living with you."**

**"Just shows that getting laid on a regular basis can improve anyone's disposition."**

**"I'm sure that's a factor, but admit it, she makes you happy."**

**House answered in a sweet, little old lady voice, "Now Dr. Wilson, we all know that only _we_ can make _ourselves_ happy. No one else can do it for us."**

**"Fine, whatever floats your boat. But, I _know_ that Isibél has a lot to do with your sweet, sunny disposition." He opened his desk and got out a pen, " I never thought anyone could get you to go on vacation, let alone para-sailing. She's good for you.'**

**"I've never had a sexier, more competent maid in my life. And she does it for free!"**

**"Don't let Isibél hear you say that. I have a feeling you'll be washing your own clothes and getting your action from your porn collection if she does."**

**"So, the kids are growing up and getting married, huh?"**

**"What are you getting them?"**

**House gave Wilson a limp wrist and a prissy voice, "I was planning on getting them that beautiful Limoge creamer set with the demitasse spoons." He scrunched his face, "What do I know about wedding presents? That's what my personal shopper does."**

**"I take it Isibél is the personal shopper. I can't believe that Chase asked you to be one of the groomsmen. What's that all about?"**

**"Foreman didn't want to be like me, Chase aspires to. I wouldn't be standing up there in a monkey suit if Isibél hadn't threatened to snip off my manhood. Funny thing about having a Spook for a girlfriend, when she threatens, you pay attention. House leaned forward, "Did you hear Foreman wasn't invited?" **

**"_What?_"**

**"He once told Chase he didn't like him and Chase told Cameron that if Foreman came to the wedding, then she could marry Foreman."**

**"Can't blame him, can you?"**

**"I'm surprised Little Miss Muffet didn't get her way."**

**"Me too. Good for Chase."**

**February 14th was a blustery day, but clear. House had picked up his tuxedo and was headed down to the country club. The wedding was to be at 5 pm with the reception at 7 pm. House saw Matt Gearson, Chase's best man, getting out of his car.**

**"Where do we go?" House asked. He walked over to Gearson, a thirty something Nuclear Physicist, and paused. Gearson reached out to shake his hand but House ignored him.**

**"Around the side, follow me."**

**When they got inside they saw Chase, his aunt and another groomsman, an Australian that Chase had gone through med school with, Nigel Larson. "We have forty-five minutes. Do any of you need anything?" Chase was already dressed and ready. He was clearly nervous, but still very handsome in his tuxedo.**

**"I just want to know what nubile female I'm being paired with coming down the aisle after the ceremony. I have to dance with her at the reception and I need to know if I should start getting a pain in my bad leg or not."**

**"It's Cam's cousin, Paulette, the one you met last night."**

**House made a gesture in the air, "Ka-ching! Jackpot. What is she, 28, 30?"**

**"Yeah, but she has a boyfriend."**

**"Not if I get her drunk enough."**

**"Aren't you forgetting your girlfriend?"**

**"Only if I get drunk enough."**

**"You better behave. I wouldn't mess with Isibél; she's got that mean and hungry look." Chase said with great sincerity.**

**"You have no idea."**

**The room was filled with lillys, orchids and wild flowers of purple and blue. House looked out and smiled. There she was. She was hot and he was going to have some fun with her tonight. She said last night at the rehearsal dinner that she liked men in tuxedos. Who could resist him? He was tall and looked good in a tux. She had on an electric blue cocktail dress with a wide skirt that was covered with a black lace netting. Her perfect legs were framed in the three inch heels she had dug up from the back of her closet. Isibél was the sexiest woman in the audience, making younger women look like they were only playing at being beautiful. House nodded to himself and his good fortune. She was his and every guy in the audience envied him. He closed the door and turned to face the other penguins.**

**Chase looked at him, "You go in last after Nigel."**

**He just nodded solemnly, "You know, you don't have to do this. You could catch a flight to Australia and I could make a speech about what a stupid waste of money getting married is. You could avoid the cost of the divorce lawyer right now if you run."**

**Chase snickered, "I'm the one who wanted marriage, she wasn't all that keen on it. It took me months to talk her into it."**

**"I knew you had to have been dropped at birth."**

**The music began, indicating that the groom and his posse should take their place. Chase walked out, followed by Mattie, Nigel and House. Isibél looked at them, noticing that Greg was the tallest and, in her opinion, the handsomest of the bunch. He looked at her and winked. She smiled back.**

**There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Cameron made an incredibly beautiful and happy bride. She floated down the aisle in a strapless gown that had a silk skirt and small train. The audience clearly approved. The bridesmaids were pretty too. They were all dressed in blues and lillac, but the dresses weren't silly or too feminine. The women looked sophisticated and complimented Cameron's appearance perfectly.**

**After the ceremony, House accompanied Paulette down the aisle until they got outside in the hall. The audience left and made their way to the reception while the bridal party took photos in the room where the wedding took place.**

**Isibél went to the next building where the reception was being held and waited patiently with Wilson, Perry and Cuddy for House to arrive. When the bridal party started to filter in she craned her neck to look for him. There must have been over 300 guests. While she was struggling to see over the crowd he came up behind her and kissed her neck. She smiled and turned to him.**

**"You looked so handsome up there. You should wear a tux all the time."**

**"You'd get bored with it."**

**"You'd get laid in it."**

**"Well then, I guess I buy myself a tux tomorrow." He reached down and kissed her. "You look beautiful."**

**"Thanks. So you have to go up and sit at the bridal table for dinner ? You'll be sitting next to Paulette?"**

**"It's a rough job, but someone has to do it."**

**"I'm watching you." She indicated this with two finger pointed first at her eyes and then at him.**

**He laughed, "If you even bothered to look in the mirror then you'd know you didn't have to worry."**

**She hugged him and watched as he made his way to the front to join the receiving line. She got in line and worked her way up the line. Cameron's aunt and uncle were behind her and Chase's soccer buddy was in front of her. When Isibél got to House, he shook her hand and said, "Aren't you the girl from the escort service? The one Chase took to the Christmas party last year? You guys sure snuck out fast. I'm glad to see that Cameron's so liberal minded that she let Chase invite you. I saw a closet out there, maybe you and I could explore it later?"**

**"Shut up." She looked at the aunt and uncle who were clearly disturbed and looking at her like she was a sleazy hooker. **

**She was going to say something, but House grabbed their hands and said, "So, did you just get in this morning?"**

**Later she watched Cameron's aunt and uncle point her out to Cameron and saw both Cameron and Chase shake their heads and laugh. House gave her a wicked grin and another wink.**

**The night was filled with lots of laughter. After House was done with the formalities, he joined Isibél, Wilson, Perry, Cuddy and her date at their table. They laughed all night long. Isibél and House danced several dances resulting in House pulling his bowtie off and unbuttoning his shirt down a few buttons for some air. He was drunk and funny, making jokes about everyone in the room and acting silly. He waltzed Isibél around the dance floor to a rock song, making everyone get out of his way.**

**Isibél had never laughed so hard. House kept stopping during his conversations to kiss her or tell her how sexy she looked.**

**He was talking to several orthopedic surgeons about jazz pianists when he stopped, "Excuse me, but I need to tell Isibél how hot she looks and that she's got the best hooters here or she won't screw me when we get home." He turned around and found Isibél across the room talking to Perry, "Isibél!" She looked up. "Honey, you've got the best hooters here and the sweetest ass."**

**She smiled and yelled back, "Thank you dear, but I'm afraid your pecker is still only nine inches long, no matter where we begin the measurement."**

**There was a lot of laughter. He laughed and turned back to the orthopedist, not missing a beat from where he left off. **

**Around ten Chase and Cameron left, around eleven the other guests began to filter out. House and Isibél were at the table, Isibél sitting on House's lap. "I love you." House told her while running his fingers along her strapless bodice. **

**"I love you too." She said.**

**He turned serious, his eyes narrowing and his forehead wrinkled, "No, I don't just mean that I love you. I really love you. It's good. It's all good. I love you so much it hurts sometimes when I look at you."**

**"You're drunk."**

**He shook his head wildly, "I'm telling the truth. I _really_ love you."**

**"I love you too." She looked into his blue eyes and could see he was sincere, even if he was drunk. "Greg, let's do this. Marry me. We've been together almost six months and we're happy. Marry me."**

**His face dropped and he looked like he was in pain. He looked away, unable to look at her when he said, "This is good the way it is. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's only been six months, let's wait, maybe in a year or so we can revisit the idea."**

**Her chin was weakening, but then she managed to gain control. "Sure, that sounds good."**

**They got up, went home, made love and the next day went to the spy exhibit. But they both knew something was different. Despite all the attempts during the day to pretend to be normal, she wasn't and House could sense it. Something in her had snapped and he felt like he was drowning. **

**During the rest of the month of February Isibél appeared to everyone around her to be acting normally. Had you asked Wilson if he had noticed anything different between House and Isibél, he would have said no, or maybe that House was a little more affectionate than usual. **

**But House knew. Isibél was too enthusiastic about making love, too interested in what he had to say, too agreeable. If he didn't know where she was just about every minute of the day, he would have sworn she was having an affair.**

**He began to notice little things were missing. Some of her personal things, her trinkets, the peanut man, the school albums were gone. "Where's your peanut man?"**

**"I packed him and some other things away. I want to redecorate and that stuff looked a little immature."**

**He nodded and went back to watching television, but he wasn't convinced. The next day she brought home paint swatches and asked both House and Jim if they thought the landlord would let her paint a couple of rooms?**

**"I'll give you their phone number and you can call." Jim said as he rummaged through a drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.**

**"I will, thanks."**

**She wasn't getting home before seven most nights. But no matter how often House tried to surprise her, or catch her doing something else, she was always at her desk working away. She was working so hard it was as if she was trying to get her affairs in order for some reason.**

**House started to withdraw. By mid-March they hardly talked to each other. There were no words of anger or accusations, there were just no words at all. Wilson began to worry as he watched House become melancholy. He started spending too much time playing piano and watching the travel channel.**

**"What's going on between you too?" Wilson asked House as he made a salad. He noted that House was on his second shot of whiskey.**

**House, sitting at the breakfast bar watching Wilson chop spinach, shrugged and said, "Ask her. I haven't got a clue." **

**"That's a lie, you know something, you always do. What's up?"**

**"I'm not sure. We've been ignoring whatever it is."**

**Wilson sighed and threw his hands up, "Gee, here's a novel idea, why don't you ask her?"**

**"Because she'll just lie about it."**

**Wilson blinked and frowned at his friend, "You don't know that. Isibél's always been pretty frank with you."**

**"Not any more." **

**Wilson thought about that and said nothing. House was a jerk, but he could also read people well. Maybe she would lie. It didn't matter, because House was withdrawing and the more he withdrew, the more likely that the relationship was in trouble. He had seen it happen just before Stacey left. **

**She taped up the last box and drove it to UPS. When she got back she made dinner and set the table. Jim was at a seminar and it would be just the two of them. It was the last day of March. She stared out at the piano and realized that she was looking forward to spring and the promise of new things that it brought. She looked around the house as she drank her glass of Grey Goose. She ran her hand along the piano and smiled to herself, thinking of all the nights they would sit and he would play for her. Then she saw the photo hanging in the hall. She desperately wanted to take it down and never let it go, but, rather than pack it away, she thought maybe he'd like it.**

**House got home at 4:30 pm and was surprised to see that she was already home and drinking. "What's up?"**

**"I just thought that with Jim gone, maybe we could have a nice dinner, some champagne and then maybe we might both get lucky."**

**He chuckled, "It smells good, what is it?" But he already knew. It was Chicken Mole, one of his favorites. The sauce was made from cocoa, but it wasn't sweet, just spicy.**

**"Chicken Mole, black beans, avocado salad and Mexican rice. For desert I bought you that cheese cake you like."**

**It made him sad. The entire meal was designed to please him. Something was up. "Sounds great."**

**"It will be done in half an hour, why don't you grab a shower?"**

**"Are you saying I stink?"**

**She laughed, "No, but I know that you were late this morning and didn't take one."**

**He tried to look repentant, "I used deodorant."**

**She laughed again.**

**He went in and ran the shower. He looked around for signs of what was going on. Her bath things were in the cabinets like usual and the foo-foo shampoo she used was sitting up on the shelf in the shower. He grabbed his coconut shampoo and lathered up. He rinsed and then stood for several minutes in the shower leaning against the wall. He and his heart felt so heavy he could hardly move. He hated not knowing what was going on.**

**He looked at the dining table all decked out with candles and placemats. He lit the candles for her and she served the dishes. She managed to talk through the entire meal about nothing and he pretended to be interested. **

**When they had cleared the table and started the dishwasher she came over to him and hugged him, something she hadn't done in weeks. "Would you play me something on the piano?"**

**"What do you want to hear?"**

**"Anything. Just play."**

**"Come sit by me." **

**They went to the piano and he began to play "Perfidia." They both knew the lyrics, both in Spanish and in English, but she refused to sing them. The lyrics played in both of there heads:**

**To you my heart cries out "Perfidia,"  
For I found you, the love of my life,  
In somebody else's arms  
Your eyes are echoing "Perfidia,"  
Forgetful of our promise of love,  
You're sharing another's charms  
With a sad lament, my dreams  
Have faded like a broken melody;  
While the gods of love look down and laugh  
At what romantic fools we mortals be  
And now I know my love was not for you  
And so I'll take it back with a sigh,  
Perfidious one, good-bye.**

**She wondered if he knew. He probably did, he seemed to always know. Why hadn't he said something? Asked her? Maybe he didn't care.**

**She had to turn away as he played, the tears were welling up. She composed herself and turned back to smile as he played. He watched her, studied her, but she refused to let him see what she was really feeling. She just smiled and swayed to the song.**

**When it was over he turned to her and opened his mouth to speak. She braced herself for his question, wondering how she should answer it. But he closed his mouth and looked away, unable to ask, not wanting an answer.**

**He didn't want to make love. He thought that if he refused to make love, it would someway disrupt whatever she had planned. But when she leaned in and kissed him he knew he was going to hold her, smell her, make love to her. It didn't take much to get him excited, they hadn't made love in weeks. He wanted her so badly. Each night he had wanted to roll over and pull her to him and take her. He knew she would have let him, but she would be pretending; she would have to put up her guard so that she wouldn't feel the intimacy, the love they shared. He knew she was fragile...vulnerable and she was doing her best not to break.**

**They began to touch each other in ways they hadn't touched in months. It was if they were making love for the first time, exploring each other's mouth with their tongues, feeling her breasts over the sweater she was wearing. She stood up, grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom. They sat down on the bed, kissed and then laid back. They stopped to look at each other and he thought that, at that moment, if he said just the right thing, she might forget her plans.**

**"I love you." He said.**

**She closed her eyes and then opened them again, "I know."**

**He waited, hoping she'd say more, but she didn't. He pulled her to him and they kissed again. She helped him take the wrinkled blue shirt off and throw it on the floor. He pulled her sweater up over her head and threw it in the same pile. Their clothes came off and he touched her milky breasts. His mouth followed the nape of her neck and down so that his tongue could play gingerly with her hard, pink nipples.**

**Isibél reached down and stroked his erection until he removed her hand. He didn't want this to end too quickly. He kissed her down the middle of her abdomen until he reached the downy patch of pubic hair that was a combination of blonde and red hairs. He separated her legs and then used his tongue to part her. She drew in a breath and put her hands lightly on his head. He sucked and licked until she screamed out his name.**

**"Greg, oh God, Greg. Yes. Oh. Yes. Greg."**

**He loved hearing his name out of her lips. He continued to lick until she pushed his head away and closed her legs. After a few seconds, he opened them again with his hand and raised up to enter her. He wasn't sure if she had put in her diaphragm and he wasn't using a condom, but it didn't matter. He didn't care. He just wanted to be inside of her. He wanted to feel her warmth, the wetness, the muscles pulling him inside. She waited until he started to thrust and she matched his rhythm until they were pounding up against each other. He grabbed the back of her hair and pulled on it. She didn't complain or pull away. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the sweet sensation started in his groin. He winced over and over as he exploded inside of her. She continued to thrust up to him even though he had stopped. She pumped all that was in him and then he grabbed her hip to stop her. He laid gently down on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his elbow. She stroked his hair and kissed his face all over. He didn't pull out of her right away. He wanted to remember this feeling. She did too. When he was able to control his breathing, he slowly twisted away and out of her. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling.**

**It was quiet in the house, in the room. They both remained silent until she jumped up, ran into the bathroom and closed the door. He suspected that she was crying, but he couldn't be sure. He was surprised to feel the wetness on his cheek from a single tear. He just wanted her to talk to him. Tell him how he could fix it.**

**She ran a shower to mask the sobbing. When she was done, she joined him back in the bedroom. He got up and went to the bathroom to clean up and brush his teeth. After he crawled beneath the sheets he turned to her, "Do you want me to pick up dinner tomorrow?"**

**"Sure."**

**"When will you be home?" he asked.**

**She shrugged her shoulders, "The usual time, 7:00 pm or so."**

**"Okay, I'll get Chinese, okay?"**

**"Sounds good...but no shrimp. I still can't eat shrimp."**

**He laughed and hugged her. He turned on the television to catch the news. She fell asleep, but it was hours before he did. He watched her sleep in the glow of the television. Around 2 am he finally succumbed and turned off the television. He kissed the crown of her head and then found himself falling into a deep sleep, the smell of her filling his senses. **

**He was surprised to see her still there in the morning. He chuckled. He had been reading too much into last night. She rolled over and smiled at him. **

**"Morning sleepyhead." She said.**

**"Morning. Want to get lucky again, I think I could spare a few minutes. What about you?"**

**She turned over and looked at the clock. "If you're quick."**

**He laughed, "I think I can accommodate you."**

**He enjoyed their quickie and judging from her moaning, she did too. He got up, took a shower and got ready for work. He found her out in the kitchen. She looked beautiful in the morning light.**

**"Do you want to ride together?"**

**"Nah, I have to run down to Trenton Courthouse this afternoon."**

**He picked up his keys and reached over the counter to kiss her, "I'll see you tonight."**

**She looked up at him and said, "I love you."**

**"I know." He turned the handle to the french doors and walked out to his car. He stopped and almost turned around to go back, to go back and tell her how much he needed her. But she seemed so normal this morning, he was sure he had read too much into last night. He took off down the road and vowed that he would tell her this evening how much he loved and needed her. **

**Isibél grabbed most of the toiletries and put them in the plastic bag from her suitcase. She looked around and packed the last of her clothes, leaving the winter things in the closet. She signed the papers and left them on the piano bench where he would see them when he walked in. **

**She looked at the Ansel Adams photo hanging on the wall and the picture of them together. She desperately wanted both of them, but knew it wasn't practical to take them. The house was quiet and she was calm. It was time. She put the keys on the table and walked out to the cab that was waiting for her. The taxi driver put her bags in the trunk and opened the door for her to get inside. She looked back at the house and almost lost it. She quickly turned away and looked at the driver.**

**"Philadelphia International."**

**He nodded and as the taxi pulled away, Isibél felt a surge of excitement and sadness all at the same time. This chapter was closed.**

**House saw her car in the drive and was relieved. He grabbed the cartons of Chinese food and walked up the sidewalk to the front doors. He tried the door, but it was locked. That wasn't unusual, Isibél constantly locked doors whenever she was home. He opened the door and immediately noticed that it was quiet. He saw several envelopes sitting on the piano bench and his heart began to sink.**

**He put the cartons down in the kitchen and then went back to the piano. The envelopes were marked, "Greg", "Car" and "Bills."**

**He opened the first envelope and began to read.**

**Dearest Greg,**

**I've tried to convince myself that being married isn't necessary, but whenever I remember you telling me people weren't hardwired to be monogamous, it makes marriage seem even more important. It would have been your confirmation to me that you thought we would beat the odds, that our love would last. But, despite your promise to think about marriage, I now know you were never going to ask me and I have been fooling myself. I can only apologize for being such an idiot. For thinking that if you lived with me you would suddenly wake up one morning and say, "Gee, I love you so much, I can't imagine ever being apart, let's get married." **

**I don't know why, but I wanted so desperately to have your babies and that stupid house with a couple of mangey dogs and a cat. I'm embarrassed, I wanted it so much that I didn't hear what you were really saying to me. I hope you can forgive me for being so blind. We were never going to reach that "compromise"– me giving up on marriage and kids, that you hoped _I would reach_. I know if I stayed, I'd always resent you for not giving me what I wanted. I'd always find it hard to believe that you really, truly, loved me like I love you.**

**I won't love like this again. I could never have anyone else's baby. So, rather than stick around and be miserable, I've decided to get lost in the jungles of Costa Rica. I've been offered a job by my sister's friend to be a rafting guide and I thought I'd give it a try. I know you and I doubt you'll spend your wheels trying to find me (especially as much as you hate to travel), but in case you decide on a whim to run down to Costa Rica, please don't. Let me get over you.**

**I've given you my car, I won't need it in Costa Rica. The pink slip and new title are in the other envelope. I've also left some cash to pay for last month's utilities. **

**Take care. Please be happy. Remember that there's someone out there in the deepest darkest jungle that loves you.**

**Love, Isibél **

**He found the single malt and poured himself a large glass of it. By the end of the night he was passed out on the floor of the living room next to the title to his new car and the ten pristine $20 notes. He woke up in the morning, called in sick and went to bed.**

**8**

**"Jesus Christ House, take a shower. The booze is pouring out of you. You stink." Wilson threw his keys on the counter and looked over at the shell that was his friend.**

**House looked up from the couch, a glass of whiskey balanced on his chest. "Open a window. Leave me alone."**

**"Look I can't live like this, walking around you like I'm on eggshells. She's gone, why don't you go down to Costa Rica and find her?"**

**"I don't know where to look."**

**"Well start with her brothers, they should know."**

**House took a drink and shook his head, "I've left a messages, but they won't return my calls."**

**Wilson stood at the end of the sofa with his hands on his hips, "Well there can't be too many rafting companies in Costa Rica."**

**"47."**

**"That many?" Wilson was surprised. "Well, start calling them."**

**"It won't do any good. I'm sure she's covered her tracks and they're not going to tell me, even if she is working there."**

**"Well, wallow if you must, but take a shower and wash your clothes. It's absolutely putrid in here." Wilson's lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes were slits as he tried to think of what he should say. "House, Cuddy came to see me." He took a deep breath, "She thinks you need to go somewhere to dry out. It's been three months and you haven't stopped drinking since Isibél left."**

**"Fuck Cuddy. I blame her. She knew Isibél was leaving. Isibél gave her two weeks notice and she didn't say anything."**

**"That's because Isibél made her promise. Look, Cuddy wasn't the idiot that refused to marry the woman he loved. You only have yourself to blame."**

**"Marriage is for idiots. You should know." he raised his glass to the air in a toast and then took a drink.**

**"Well, maybe, but the idiot who wanted it is now in Costa Rica and you're here, drunk most of the time."**

**House got up, gave Wilson a silly look and then went to his bedroom. He passed out on his bed. When he woke up at 3am he took the shower he desperately needed. He could still smell the booze when he went back into the bedroom so he stripped his bed and laid down on the bare mattress until his alarm went off at 7:30 am. He grabbed a glass of whiskey for breakfast and then climbed behind the wheel of his sports car and gunned the motor. He was hoping that some day he'd lose control and they'd find him mangled and dead at the side of the road. But he was too good a driver for that to happen.**


	24. Chapter 18 Part 2

Lisa Cuddy ran down the hall as fast as she could in her three inch heels. She collided into Wilson's door with a thud. Wilson opened the door and saw a frantic Cuddy, her eyes wide, her mouth open and her hair disheveled from running so fast. Wilson opened the door for her to come in and she stepped inside, looked around and sat down in the chair to catch her breath.

Wilson had just gotten in and was still tying his tie. His morning Egg McMuffin was on his desk along with a steaming cup of coffee. "Boy, you look like a wild banshee. What's up?"

"Have you seen the morning paper?"

"No. Why?"

She threw a section of the newspaper on his desk and he picked it up. He was surprised to find that she had handed him the obituaries. He looked down the list, but saw no one he knew.

She could see he was scanning the wrong section, "The article at the bottom."

He looked down at the bottom and felt his stomach turn. There was a picture of a lovely woman in a business suit taken when she first came to work at the hospital.

"Local Attorney Dies in Rafting Accident."

Isibél O'Rourke, a local attorney who, until recently, was employed by Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, died in a tragic rafting accident in Costa Rica. O'Rourke, who was employed as a guide in Costa Rica, was found trapped under a large boulder after her raft flipped during a flash flood. O'Rourke was 38 years old and a graduate of Yale Law School. She spent twelve years as a Political Analyst for the State Department before joining Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. O'Rourke's ashes will be returned to her family for a service to be held in Boston, MA where her brother, Kieran O'Rourke, resides. O'Rourke is survived by her brothers, Kieran and Liam O'Rourke, San Diego and her sister, Nessie Montoya, Costa Rica. Services to be held June 30th at Humphrey's Mortuary, Boston.

Wilson slowly took his seat and looked up at Cuddy. He put his forehead in his hand and realized he was crying. Lisa got up and came around the desk, put her arm around him and said, "What are we going to do?"

Wilson shook his head, "I don't know. This isn't going to be pretty. I didn't think he could sink any lower, but this is going to do it."

"Where is he?" she asked.

"I don't know, but we better find him." Wilson stood up and walked to his door. He turned and looked at Cuddy who looked frightened, almost frantic. "He usually doesn't buy the newspaper. He scans the seats in the clinic for used copies when he comes in."

Cuddy nodded and they took off. It was 8:30 am and House usually showed up just before 9:00 am. They went down to the clinic, determined that he hadn't arrived yet and spent the next five minutes collecting discarded newspapers. All of the nurses were asking Cuddy questions. They had read the paper and couldn't believe it happened to such a young and nice person.

"Okay, why don't you call him and tell him to come straight to your office?" Wilson suggested.

"Okay." She pulled out her cell phone and went through the phone book until she found his cell. It rang several times. She was ready to hang up when she heard the call picked up.

"This better be good." House said.

Cuddy could tell right away that he didn't know. "House, where are you?"

"Pulling into the parking garage. Why? You need servicing? Isn't it a little early for you? I thought you liked nookie at night."

She flinched, knowing that his playfulness would soon be gone. "I need for you to stop by my office immediately. I need for you to come straight here."

"Crap, now what did I do? Offend one of your pasty white donors?"

"Just come to my office. Okay?" she said as Wilson accompanied her to her office.

"Yes, mistress."

They took their places. Cuddy at her desk and Wilson in one of the chairs. They sat in silence waiting for him. They saw him enter the outer door and watched as his face turned from frustration to suspicion.

He opened the door, stuck his head in and said, "Is this a lynching?"

Cuddy shook her head and started crying. Wilson gave her a look to make her stop, but she couldn't. House was dumbfounded and now he wanted answers.

"What's going on?"

Wilson looked down and then up at his friend, "You better sit down. We have some bad news?"

"Cameron's getting a divorce and wants me again?"

They were silent.

House sat down. "Okay." He turned his palm up, "I'm here?"

Wilson turned his chair towards him and bit his lip. "There's an article in the paper this morning. It's Isibél. She drowned in a rafting accident in Costa Rica." He watched as House's face went blank, as if he was unable to understand what Wilson was saying. "It was a flash flood. Her raft flipped and they found her under a boulder in the water."

House looked at Cuddy to see if it was true. He could tell from the tears streaming down her face that it was. He stood up and the chair fell behind him. He walked towards the door. Wilson leaped up, ran to cut him off and put his hand on the door to keep him from opening it. Wilson shook his head.

"I won't let you open this unless you tell me what you're going to do."

House looked at him with contempt and then looked back at Cuddy. "I'm going to go to work. I have a job to do, remember? I have a patient that needs diagnosing and that's what I'm going to do. If you want, you can follow me."

"House, if you need time off..." Cuddy began.

"No. She left me. It was over. Yeah, it's a shame she died, but I can't do anything about it, can I? So, life goes on. People get sick. They need my help. And that's what I do." He started to open the door, but thought again, "I could use some time off from clinic though. I think I might have a break down if I have to treat the masses."

Cuddy smiled sadly, "Alright, take the week off from clinic."

Wilson did follow him. "I know you're not okay. I know you loved her."

House ignored what he said, "Where's the article?"

Wilson pulled out the folded page from his pocked and handed it to him. House put it in his pocked and walked out with Wilson in tow. He stood outside his office and read it. He nodded, handed it back to Wilson and then went into the outer office to start writing on the white board. Wilson watched as House's team tried to offer their condolences, but he kept going back to the white board. Wilson shook his head and went back to his office.

Wilson was surprised by the fact that House hadn't had a drink since he heard about Isibél. It had been a week and Wilson had planned to go up for the memorial service with Cuddy. House wasn't going.

"Memorials are for the living, not the dead. It won't bring her back or make me remember her any better. Besides, there's a good baseball game on and I've got a bet on the Phillys."

Wilson closed his eyes and hung his head, "How can you be so blasé?"

He gave him an exaggerated sad face and held his heart, "I'm not blasé, we just all mourn in our _own_ way." He dropped the sad face and laughed at Wilson who, with great exasperation, turned and left to pick up Cuddy.

As soon as House heard the car drive off, he sat down at his piano and began to play Claire de Lune. When he was done he grabbed his keys and took off in his sports car. He didn't know where he was going, he was just driving. He drove all night, traversing a large circle around the Princeton area before going home. He opened the door and saw the photo Wilson had taken of Isibél and him hanging up on the wall. He grabbed it off the hook and threw it across the room, shattering the glass and frame into hundreds of pieces. He wanted a drink, but he knew that if he started drinking, he wouldn't stop. He went back out to the car and drove down to the hospital. It was 2:30 am. For the next three nights he worked constantly. He read journals, wrote several articles that Cuddy had been harping on him to write and even worked in the emergency room, just to keep busy. On the third night he drove home and collapsed in bed. He slept 22 hours non-stop.

It was Sunday morning. The sun was shining in through the roman shade into his opened his eyes. He saw someone move. He was shocked to see her standing next to the bed. She was in shorts and had on a long sleeved rash-guard shirt.

"You're suppose to be dead?" lifted up on his elbows and smiled at her. "Christ, go to the bathroom. You're dripping all over the floor."

"You could at least say hello, after all, you haven't seen me in three months."

"What do you want from me? It's rather a shock to see you come back from the dead like that. The papers have you trapped under boulders in Costa Rica. Now go drip in the bathroom, I'll find you some dry clothes."

"Yada, yada. Okay." She turned and he could see the large gash in the back of her head. Her shorter, blonde hair was dark around the gash from the wet blood.

He jumped up, "You're hurt! Isibél, you need stitches!"

"Nah, it's okay." She turned her head so he could see the gash closer, " Look, you can even see my brain if you look close. Cool, huh?"

He looked at it and she was right. His head started to spin, beads of sweat formed above his lip and he felt light. "No! Oh, God, no...no...no..."

"House. House! Wake up." Wilson was kneeling on the floor over the body of his friend. He shook his shoulder, "Are you drunk?"

House felt the hand on his shoulder and could hear Wilson's voice. It sounded like he was in a tunnel. After a few seconds he could hear him clearly and was able to open his eyes.

Wilson looked into the glazed blue eyes, "Are you drunk? High?"

House pulled back and gave Wilson a dirty look, "No, I'm not high or drunk. I'm exhausted. I worked 36 hours in a row. I guess I didn't make it to my bed."

"Whew. You had me worried. I saw the photo and frame. What happened?"

House didn't answer his question, "So, you're back from Boston. Any more details?"

"I guess she was trying to get the raft back to the take out point when the river came crashing down and flipped it over. If she hadn't hit the back of her head, she'd probably be alive. They found her the next day under a boulder in the river. I guess she died doing what she loved. Her brothers were really distraught. Their sister was too upset to come."

House sat up with his back against the box springs of his bed. He said nothing. Wilson stood up.

"Well, I need a shower and some sleep so that I can face Mrs. Danson, my breast cancer advocate. Do you need anything?"

House shook his head and watched as Wilson left. He sat, motionless, for several minutes and then closed his eyes.


	25. Chapter 19 Part 1

**CHAPTER 19 (PART 1)**

**LIFE GOES ON AND ON AND ON**

**House sat in the Atlanta airport waiting for his connection with his legs outstretched and his eyes focused on the ground about fifteen feet in front of him. He was facing out, away from the gate so that he could see the crowds running to and from their respective flights. He was on his way home from the Carribean. His mind wandered back to the seminar in Road Town, British Virgin Islands. He had submitted an article regarding diagnosing auto-immune diseases eighteen months ago, just after Isibél died, and it had landed in the _New England Journal of Medicine _and _Nature_. As a result, he had been giving lectures on it all over the world.**

**He was tired. The flight had been delayed and he and Cuddy had to catch another one five hours later, meaning they missed their domestic connection. Cuddy was sitting next to House reading her _Cosmopolitan_.**

**"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be back in a sec." Cuddy jumped up and left, wandering down the hall and stopping in the little store to see if she could buy a magazine she hadn't read yet.**

**House continued to stare, thinking about the questions the audience had asked and how they had laughed at his answers. For some reason, his sense of humor was appreciated by the British and he had been asked to speak at a seminar at St. Bart's in London. He wasn't sure he wanted to go, but he found traveling and lecturing had helped keep his mind occupied.**

**He heard the fast clip of high heels, but didn't bother to look up. The heels passed by, walking in tandem with a pair of men's Italian loafers. They were barely in his field of vision. He knew those feet and ankles, but how? It took a fraction of a second for him to realize they belonged to her. He quickly looked up, following the legs he knew so well. The legs that disappeared up the tight skirt. He looked at her frame. It was the same build and height. But she had long, light brown hair hanging just past her shoulders in curls. Her hips swayed as she walked next to the Latin-looking gentleman in the Armani suit. As a couple they oozed money and sophistication. **

**And then it happened. Just before they turned the corner she quickly turned and looked over her shoulder while removing her sunglasses. Their eyes met. Hers were a deep brown, but they were hers. He knew it was her. He went cold and clammy. **

**House jumped up and ran down the hall as fast as he could.**

**I knew I shouldn't have looked back. My training told me not to do it. But he was like a magnet. I had seen him, his long legs stretched in front of him, his hands pressed together in thought. He looked older, tired, a little roughed up. His eyes were on the floor and he didn't see me, at least I didn't think he had.**

**We were late for our take off time and almost running. I was grateful that the plane was waiting for us and I wouldn't have to spend more time in the airport. When I saw him, my heart squeezed tight and I lost my breath. But Diego kept me going, his arm in mine and pulling me along with his inertia. I kept my eyes straight ahead, just as I was trained.**

**I picked up the speed and Diego followed my lead. We turned, flashed our passports and the guard let us through. **

**I heard his voice, "Isibél! Isibél! Isibél! Stop. Damn it, Isibél, I know it's you." His voice was getting fainter and fainter as we made our way to the plane.**

**I didn't turn around again. I knew that the guards had probably stopped him. Diego didn't look, he didn't know any Isibél so he didn't care who was yelling. The steward opened the door to the outside and we walked down the stairs to the tarmac. I looked up and saw that we were facing the wing where he was. I could see him pounding on the window and screaming while a guard was holding his other arm. Diego didn't notice, the noise from the planes and the thickness of the glass prevented us from hearing anything. Diego pulled my arm and we climbed the five steps into the private jet, the door shut and Gregory House was once again a thing of the past. **

**"For Christ's sakes, she's dead! Dead! I knew you'd break one day, but in an airport?" Cuddy was both angry and concerned.**

**The guards handed House the form for him to sign. He grabbed a pen from her and as he signed growled, "She's alive. I've licked every inch of that body and know it by heart, **

**The guard interrupted. "Okay buddy, you can go now, but no more outbursts or Homeland Security is going to haul your butt in for questioning, understand?"**

**House nodded and Cuddy assured the guard, "Really, he'll behave. He just hasn't been himself since his girlfriend _died_." She emphasized the word for House's sake. She sighed, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to the waiting lounge.**

**"It was her." He said adamantly.**

**"House, you need help. You should see a shrink to help you with your grieving. She's dead."**

**"Did you see a body?" he asked, his head cocked.**

**"No, but I saw ashes, grieving relatives, a memorial service."**

**"Yeah, that was all a show. She's a Spook again. They've put on this whole charade to make people think she's dead so that they can send her undercover."**

**"Do you know how silly you sound?"**

**He put his face inches from hers, "She's alive!"**

**"Come on, they're boarding our flight."**

**The day that I had left House, I woke up that morning feeling hollow. After he left for work, I sat down on the bed and held the pillow up to my face so I could smell him. I wanted so much to take it with me, along with the photo, but I knew I couldn't. **

**I flew Kieran and Liam both out to Philadelphia and talked to them about my plans. "I'm leaving him. I want marriage and he doesn't. So I've been asked back by the State Department and they may be sending me places where I can't take my things." The State Department was my cover for the CIA and my brothers knew it.**

**Liam was clearly pissed at me. "Don't do this. Leave him if you must, but don't go back to the Farm. I can't stand it. I worry about you all the time. You've done enough for your country. Let someone else get shot or beaten or kidnaped."**

**Kieran nodded in agreement, "Why don't you wait? Look at me Isibél, I didn't want to get married. Maybe Greg will come around, just wait. I don't want you going back to the Farm either."**

**I knew they were going to be a hard sell, but it was my decision, not theirs. "He's never going to marry me and I can't stay knowing that. The State Department begged me to come back, to help sweep up this case I worked last summer when I was at the hospital. They need someone who knows the players and can follow the money. It means putting some very dangerous people out of business. I have to do it. They need me." I said it firmly, but with love.**

**Liam shook his head violently, "Let them get someone else. How many times do you have to put your life on the line for this country?"**

**"Li, it's a done deal." I said it as softly as I could. "I need somewhere to store my things...please?" I smiled gently at him and patted his hand..**

**He was angry, but he knew me. I wasn't going to give in. "Dianne's not going to be happy, she had plans for turning that part of the garage into an office."**

**"I'll give you $10,000, you can rent a storage space for me."**

**I saw him relent, "Nah, I'd rather keep your stuff at the house to make sure no one steals it. After all, those boxes contain the essence of you. Will we be able to see you?"**

**I shook my head, "Not until we catch the bad guys and we're estimating that will take a few years. I need to worm my way in and then patiently wait for them to make mistakes."**

**Kieran was on the verge of crying, "So we won't see you for another three years or more?"**

**"Maybe. I'm sorry. But I'm doing it for you and your families. You'll have to give Dianne some story about why you're keeping my things. If you have to store them somewhere else, then do it." I turned back to both of them, "If you really need to contact me, call Alex, he'll see that I get your message." I paused and took a drink of water. We were sitting in the middle of the Natural Science Museum café, away from the other patrons. I was staring at the large skeleton of a T. Rex named Chu Chu. "I need another favor. The Company is going to give me a little memorial and we need some actors. You'll be paid handsomely for your efforts, but you and sis will be the only ones to know it's a show."**

**They both shook their heads at me and looked away. I knew they would do it and do it well. They both understood that it had to be convincing or the people who would be watching wouldn't believe it and that might mean my life.**

**I left them that day and felt horrible. They didn't see me often, but the idea that they _couldn't_ see me was hard to accept. It's one thing to know that the person you love is just a train or plane trip away, another to know that you won't know where that person is or how they're doing for three years. **

**I knew that by preparing his favorite meal and making love to him I might be tipping Greg off to the fact that I was leaving him. But I didn't want to go with us still acting like two frozen popsicles towards each other. **

**I hadn't expected the night to be so sweet. His lovemaking was so memorable that I can still feel waves of pleasure in my sleep when I dream of him. And I do dream of him, all the time. I worry and wonder if he stayed clean and if he found someone else to love. It's only been twenty-one months, but a lot can happen in twenty-one months.**

**When I got into the taxi and headed to the helioport in Philadelphia, I felt so incredibly sad. I climbed aboard the helicopter and put my head back, closed my eyes and saw his blue eyes staring at me in my head. My eyes flashed opened and I shook my head to get the cobwebs out. I took a deep breath and watched as Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital passed out of sight along with my dreams.**

**Alex told me that House didn't go to the memorial. There were several people from PPTH that did, but not House. I guess I don't blame him. He had probably moved on, found someone else and didn't want to wallow in the past. Still, I had thought he might send flowers or a card to my brothers, but Alex said no. The Farm went through all of the letters, cards, plants, flowers, donations, just to make sure that they were legitimate friends and family. They found nothing from Greg.**

**I thought about all of this as I pushed my seat back for a nap. Diego worked on his laptop and I tried to sleep. We were on our last leg back to Rome and our apartment on the edge of the city. We were both tired and would be glad to get home. I especially wanted to get home, I needed something to take my mind off of Greg. We were expecting some of Diego's "business partners" and I knew that would help me forget the scene at the airport. **

**Diego was the financial middleman for the 'dealers.' One of his clients was represented by Yuri, who was selling Cesium to the Saudis and other mid-easterners who were part of a terrorist network. They purchased the Cesium from Yuri by selling heroin that they obtained from Afghanistani warlords. The warlords used the money to buy arms which they in turn sold to the Taliban, other warlords, and the Afghanistan and Kurdistan government. It was a mess and Diego was the man who washed the money, made the dealings all look legitimate.**

**Now I am Diego's girlfriend. We've been seeing each other for the last year and a half and living together for the last year. I travel in his circles, entertain his various clients and run his house. On the side, I steal information from his computers, his books and his friends.**


	26. Chapter 19 Part 2

**CHAPTER 19 (PART 2)**

**LIFE GOES ON AND ON AND ON**

Alex Gimble had just finished debriefing his superiors when his pager went off. He reached over the desk of Michael Morell's secretary and picked up the phone. He dialed the extension which showed on his pager.

"Gimble." He announced over the receiver.

"He's back." The guard said.

"Jesus H. Christ. Okay, I'll be down." He slammed down the phone and looked over at Agent McAfferty, "I've got to go down and send our boy packing again. Damn, he's a major pain in the ss."

Gimble grabbed the elevator down to the lobby. The lobby at Langley is large with huge columns and a large logo of the CIA on the floor. The floor is highly polished with alternating rectangles of color that provide security a frame of reference for pinpointing the accurate position of possible intruders. The ceiling is twenty to thirty feet tall causing sounds to echo throughout. As soon as Gimble got off the elevator he could hear him yelling.

"I don't care who the hell hears me. She's alive and you guys know it. You know where she is. I want to..." He stopped when he saw Alex, "Oh, glad you could play. Alright Alex, one more time, where is she?" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Michael Morell was scheduled to welcome the head of MI6 in the lobby in the next ten minutes and escort him up to the conference room. As Morell walked through the lobby, he heard yelling and stopped. He recognized House from the operation at PPTH a few years ago. He stopped and listened as House went on and on about Isibél being alive.

Morell motioned for the guards to come over. "Escort Dr. House to my office."

The guard approached House. "Dr. House, the Deputy Assistant Director would like for us to escort you to his office, will you come this way please?"

House looked at them and then at Alex. He had some trepidation, but this would be the first time he would get past the lobby. "Sure, I'll be happy to accompany you to his office, maybe he can give me some answers."

House waited in Morell's office with a rather stern looking Marine. After an hour he turned to the Marine, "Did you know that the Marine Corp's birthday cake-cutting ceremony is important to all Marines, as it is an annual renewal of each Marine's commitment to the Corps and the Corps' commitment to our nations quest for peace and freedom worldwide? The birthday cake is traditionally cut with the Mameluke sword, as a reminder that we are a band of warriors, committed to carrying the sword, so that our nation may live in peace. The Mameluke sword gets its name from the cross hilt and ivory grip design, similar to swords used for centuries by Ottoman warriors. The Marine Corps tradition of carrying this sword dates from Lieutenant Presley O'Bannon's assault of Derna, Tripoli, in 1805, where he is said to have won the sword of the governor of the city."

The Marine said nothing, but he shrugged his shoulders. A few minutes later Michael Morell entered the office and took his seat behind his desk. "Dr. House, why are you insisting that Isibél O'Rourke is still alive? Don't you know how upsetting this is for her family and friends? We received a call from her brother just after you visited him in Boston. He and his family are disturbed by your allegations. What would it take for you to be convinced that Ms. O'Rourke is dead?"

"Unless you show me the body, which has allegedly been cremated, there isn't anything you can't fake."

"Well, I have an important dignitary here and the rest of this month I am busy with a summit in Europe. What if I promise you that, if you don't harass the family or us for the next month, I'll give you undeniable proof that she's dead." He pushed back in his chair, "Deal?"

House thought about it. It scared him to think that this man could prove it. House was skeptical, but this was first real break. "If you don't, then what?"

"I promise, that if I can't prove it to you in a month, then I will allow you access to her personnel file and if you want to go to a reporter, I won't stop you."

"Yeah, right."

"Do we have a deal?"

House laughed to himself. He had been getting nowhere since making his weekly trips down to Langley. In fact, he usually ended up being escorted to the gate by several stern looking Marines. This was the only break he had been given, "Okay. Deal."

House left and drove back up to Princeton. Wilson was watching television when House got back. He barely looked up at his friend when he came into the family room. Wilson was tired of House's constant tirades about Isibél being alive. Wilson had tried to talk to him until he was blue in the face.

"Well the big man himself is going to give me proof positive that she's dead." House grinned.

Wilson snarled and shook his head, "Great House, I'm happy for you. You get to prove that Isibél is dead, bully for you."

House's grin disappeared and the reality of what it might mean hit home.

House sat back on the sofa at the opposite end from Wilson. He wanted a drink, but he didn't dare start or the next four weeks would be spent at the bottom of a bottle.

House got up and went to bed. He was feeling sick to his stomach.


	27. Chapter 19 Part 3

**CHAPTER 19 (PART 3)**

**LIFE GOES ON AND ON AND ON**

House arrived at Heathrow and grabbed his luggage. He took the train to Victoria Station and then grabbed a cab to the Chesterfield Mayfair. It was discreetly tucked away off Berkeley Square. The deluxe Chesterfield Mayfair Hotel is more reminiscent of a private club than an international 4 star luxury hotel in Central London. It has a library, restaurant and sported a conservatory. It was a short stroll from Bond Street where House was to receive his award. He was being provided with a suite.

House had brought one roller and a duffle bag. Rather than pay for a bellboy, he dragged the luggage up to his suite himself. He looked at the key and realized that he was at the far end of the hall, away from the elevator. As he dragged the luggage he thought about what he was going to say when he accepted the award. When he reached his room he thought he could hear the television, but then realized it was probably coming from the room next door. He used the key card, slipped it through and watched the lock turn green. He was backing into his room with his roller case, trying to keep his coat from getting caught in the wheels and door, when he looked up and saw someone move behind the door. He screamed out in shock. She screamed back, lowering her gun to the floor and rushing straight into his arms. The door closed and they stumbled over the luggage, falling on the floor in a heap of winter coat and human flesh.

There were no words between them. He grabbed her face and kissed it over and over. She was crying so hard she couldn't say anything. Over the next few minutes they fumbled like teenagers, trying to get their clothes off and making their way to the canopied bed with the deep burgundy silk curtains in the next room.

His mouth covered her breasts as she tried to reach down and touch him. He raised up, spreading her legs with his knee, entered her with a force that made her cry out. She wrapped her legs around him and rocked him. There was little he could do, the urgency of it all was bringing him to climax quickly. He grunted a few times as he came. When he finished, he pushed himself up and off of her, panting and trying to catch his breath.

Both their chests were heaving, making it difficult for them to talk. Isibél turned to face him and began crying again. House held her so close she thought he would break her.

"I knew it. I knew it." He said between his gasps for air.

She turned in his arms, her left leg draped up over his hip, arm under his. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I was contacted a month ago to receive an award from _Nature_. The arrangements were all made for me."

She chuckled, "Boy you must have been a bloody nuisance."

He squinted, "What do you mean?"

"I was called into London for a debriefing this morning. I was informed that you have been harassing everyone and anyone who will listen, telling everyone that I'm alive. Well, it obviously worked. Thank God you're famous enough that you can't just disappear without causing problems for them. I've never known them to do this, set an operative up with someone from their real life." She grabbed his chin to emphasize her point, "But you've got to stop, you're going to get me killed for real."

He looked away, he knew that by making a fuss, he might be blowing her cover. But he thought she was probably squirreled away in some foreign office plotting the world's domination. If she was this afraid he was going to get her killed, it meant she was working undercover again, as an operative. He looked at her brown eyes and smiled, he liked the blue ones better. "Can you take those things out? And what happened to your mouth, there's something different?"

She smiled and took out the bridge she wore to make her teeth more pronounced. "You're avoiding the topic. Will you stop now? I'm alive, you were right. Now stop making it public knowledge, okay?"

His mouth turned down and he nodded. "The Company must have pulled a lot of strings to make this happen."

"Well, they didn't tell me and it almost got you killed. I was about ready to shoot you when I recognized the coat. They didn't say anything about it this morning."

"How long do you have?" he asked.

"I'm supposedly here on a shopping spree, I leave tomorrow evening."

He flinched, "Damn, twenty-four hours."

"It's twenty-four more than anyone else gets in this business. Let's not dwell on that. Let's just enjoy it, okay?"

He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. "So, the guy in the airport, he's your target or your co-worker?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." She chuckled, but she meant it.

"Are you sleeping with him?" He asked.

"How's Jim?"

He looked back and forth in her eyes, but they were blank, she wasn't going to tell him. "He's still dating Perry. They found out she has a Thyroid problem and since she's been treated she's lost about twenty-five pounds. But Wilson doesn't seem to care what weight she is. I guess he's always on top."

"And Cuddy?"

They talked awhile about the people they knew and she laughed at his stories about some of the staff. They rang for room service and ordered dinner. While they waited, they pulled the cover down on the bed and got under the sheets. House kissed her, his tongue slipping in to meet hers. He remembered everything about her, how sweet she always tasted. He let his hands follow down the side of her body around each of her curves. She was in great shape, but she was also tense, her muscles tight and her eyes sharp like those of a bird of prey. He pulled on her back and scooted even closer to her, smelling the Clive Christian No. 1 she was wearing. At $1800 an ounce, he knew she must be moving in rich circles.

She ran her hand down his spine and across the top of his hairy butt. It felt like him, smelled like him and tasted like him, but she still couldn't believe that The Company had set this up. He must have given them a real headache.

The knock on the door signaled dinner. Isibél stopped House from answering it. Isibél yelled, "Just a minute." She climbed out of bed and put on the hotel robe, picked up her gun and put it behind the folds of her robe. She looked out the peep hole and turned to House, "Do you have a few pounds?"

He motioned to his pants on the floor. She reached in his pocket and grabbed a couple of pound coins. She opened the door and, as the waiter rolled in the tray, she walked behind him, analyzing every one of his moves. The waiter stopped, turned and looked at her.

"Thank you." She handed him the money and he left. Isibél bolted the door.

House was propped up on his elbow in the bedroom watching her through the door to the living area. He smiled at how professional she was...for a Spook.

"Do you want breakfast in bed or eat it out here at the dining table?"

"Dining table." he said.

He got up and walked out to the living area where there was a couch, stuffed chair, television unit, table, chairs and bar. He walked over to the table and sat down, waiting for her to serve him.

She shook her head, remembering that the alpha dog always let everyone else do the work. She gave him his utensils, plate and drink and then sat down with hers. She couldn't believe she was sitting across from a naked Greg House and that they were being allowed this interlude. She knew he had no idea how unprecedented this was. Operatives were rarely allowed contact with the outside world during a field operation. The Company must have been worried that House would blow her cover and decided that, because they couldn't keep him "occupied," they'd let him have time with her. They knew she'd warn him that he could get her killed and that would probably be enough to keep him quiet.

They ate and talked about London and all of his recent travels. He finally turned to her, "I know you've been to Atlanta. Where were you going in the private jet?"

She chewed her food and looked at him, wishing he would stop this game. "How did you know it was me?"

"Your ankles, your legs, then your body and most important, when you turned and looked at me."

"I knew that was a mistake."

"I checked the call letters on that jet and it's owned by Banco Real in Brasil. The President is Diego Nava. Diego Nava, mega wealthy financier with homes all over the world. Was that the man on your arm? It looked like him from the photos I've seen."

She hated him and his damn curiosity. He pried too much, knew too much, was too intelligent. He would have made a great agent. "How do you like the color of my hair?"

He cut a piece of chicken and before putting it in his mouth said, "I know that he's probably involved in money laundering. Is that why you're with him?"

She pulled on a strand of her hair, "It's a little longer. I kind of like it, it goes with the brown eyes." Isibél said as she chewed her food.

"You're not going to answer me."

"Not unless you want a bullet through your forehead."

He nodded and looked down at his plate. "I like you as a blonde with blue eyes. But either way, you're very attractive. Great bait for someone like Nava, who apparently likes American women."

She wanted to scream at him to stop digging up all of this information, to let it go. But she knew House, he couldn't let go until he knew everything there was to know about what she was doing. "Well, I'll take the contacts out while I'm here since you asked me so politely."

He chuckled. She wasn't going to answer him and he knew it. But he wanted her to know that he had done his homework. "When I make love to you tonight, should I call you Isibél or Gwen?" Her mouth dropped and she jumped up, looking down at him in horror. "Oh, don't get so excited. I found a photo in a Brasilian newspaper of you and him at some charity event. It said that Diego Nava and Gwendolyn Bijou were in attendance."

She sat back down, but she couldn't eat. "Greg, don't. You could get hurt. More likely, I could get hurt. There's a lot of lives riding on this. Please, please don't."

He nodded, but he knew he couldn't let go. She was everything to him and he needed to know everything about her. He turned back to his meal and finished it. She stood up and went silently into the bathroom. He heard the shower start.

Isibél knew that the room was probably bugged by The Company. When she got out of the shower, she'd do a search. As she soaped up she could see his shadow outside of the stall. The curtain opened partially and he stuck his head in, "Here's Johnny!" He gave his best Jack Nicholson grin and then opened the curtain so that he could get in. She handed him the bar of soap and he soaped up her back and then wrapped his arms around to soap her front. She leaned back, grateful to have a man's hands on her that she loved. He kissed her neck and then turned her around so that he could give her a real kiss.

"I love you." He said.

She swallowed, looked up at him and said, "I know, I know. I'm so sorry."

She grabbed and hugged him, putting her head against his heart and feeling like her insides were ripping into shreds. Just feeling him gave her so much pleasure that it hurt. He kissed the top of her head and continued to soap her up. She turned him around and washed his back and then his front, making sure to be gentle with his willy.

"Why are we taking a shower when I'm just going to get you hot and sticky in a few minutes?" He asked.

"Because I needed to cool off, to think. Something that's hard to do with you pinching my nipples."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Pinching nipples and playing with women's bodies is a must."

She grinned and got out of the shower. He followed her after he rinsed. She put a finger to her mouth and showed him the bug she found in the bathroom. Typically they placed three in a hotel room, but she suspected they only placed two. One in the bathroom and one in the bedroom where Isibél and House were most likely to spend their time together. Since she and House weren't bad guys, the Farm just wanted to know what House knew. He had already spilled his guts so Isibél felt there was no sense letting them hear the lovemaking they were about to do. She found the second bug and took both of them out to the living room, sat them next to the radio and turned it on. She smiled. Chester, the tech agent, would be listening to the pirate radio stations off the coast of England for the next two days.

She went back to find him already in bed waiting for her. She climbed in and straddled his waist, looking down into his eyes. He seemed somewhat desperate, as if he knew he had one chance and didn't want to blow it.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

She looked at his sad blue eyes and felt a twinge. There were more wrinkles and a weariness that hadn't been there before. She wondered if he saw the same in her? "You know why, the letter said it all. I wanted marriage and kids, you didn't. I didn't want to marry anyone else, but I couldn't stay knowing you'd never take that one big leap."

"Isibél, marry me. Have my babies. Come back with me to Princeton. I'm ready to take that step. I've stopped drinking, doing drugs and gambling. We can get married tomorrow. Just come back with me." He said it softly, with great sincerity.

She stroked his face and gave him a smile born of pain, "It's too late Greg. I'm in too deep. We had our chance and it's gone. You will always be the one man that I'll look back and wished it had lasted. But, once we took our different paths there's no going back."

"_You_ took a different path. I'm still back on the trail." he said.

"Well, then find your own path...it's the one I'm not on." She was annoyed that he was bringing this up when it had been him who had forced her hand. She climbed off of him and laid down on her back . "Greg, is this the way you want to spend our next twenty hours? Rehashing what we already know. You don't want to be married and you don't want to be a father. I _wanted you_ to _want_ to be a husband to me and a father to our children. I didn't want you to do it as a backup plan."

"Bull sh!t. What does it matter? If my intentions are to marry you to get you back forever, isn't that the same thing? I want marriage because it means we'll be together for the rest of our lives. And kids, well, the same thing. If they come with you, then I'm all for it."

She didn't want to argue. She'd reviewed this script in her head a million times. She decided the best way to avoid it was to distract him, like you would with a toddler. She turned back to him and began stroking his arm and chest. She slipped her hand down his abdomen and down to the patch of light brown curly hair. She started to play with him when he grabbed her hand and removed it.

"Marry me."

She threw herself back on her back again, "Damn you're tenacious. No. I can't. If I back out of the job now, they'll know I was CIA and they'll hunt me down. They'll use you as a weapon against me. I have to see this through."

He grimaced and looked around as if he was looking for an answer. "Well, when will you be done?"

"It depends. It could end tomorrow if I get the evidence or eliminate the right people. But I don't know yet. It could be years. It probably will be years. Diego is a wealth of information and our relationship has been a gold mine to The Company."

"_Years?_" His eyes flew open and he pushed up on his elbow to look down at her for confirmation.

"Yes, years. You think this is a Hollywood movie where we walk in and two hours later it's all over?" She shook her head, "These things take time. I have to build trust and then worm my way into his life and the business. It doesn't happen overnight." She once again turned to face him. "Now, please, can we table this for now? It hurts to think about it and I was so happy when I saw you...I'd hate to lose all of that feeling because we couldn't agree."

He thought about the joy on her face when she saw him come through the door and now the look of pain and desperation the same face was registering.

"You're right. What was I thinking? I've got a beautiful, freshly scrubbed, naked woman in bed and I'm talking. Now where were you?" He put her hand back on his genitals and saw a smile creep over her face.

They made love slowly and with gentleness that reminded her of some of their earlier days together. He brought her to climax and then climbed up to the pillow. He traced circles around her breasts and nipples, mouth, nose, eyes. He rubbed her ears and saw her relax as he continued to touch her.

Over the next few hours they took turns rubbing and massaging each other, talking about movies they had seen (Diego had a home theater where he ran first run movies for clients when they visited) and remembering things they did together. Around midnight they fell asleep in each other's arms, a sleep that was broken by the sound of a cell phone playing, "Play with Fire."

She immediately jumped up in search of the phone. House raised his head and opened an eye only to see her giving him a finger over her mouth to be quiet. Her eyes were wide and nervous. She took a deep breath and opened the cell phone to answer.

In Spanish she greeted him, "Hello my love, how are you doing without me?" There was a pause and she smiled, "It's only until tomorrow. " Pause. "Rome? Why?" Pause. "Of course." Pause. 'I'm not saying, you'll just have to wait and see what I bought tomorrow." Pause. "Of course I bought you something. I couldn't be away from you and not come home with a trinket." Pause. "Yes love. Goodnight. Ciao." She closed the phone and put her hand up to her forehead. She was breathing fast. She was nervous and worried.

He sat up. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I just worry that he has someone watching me. But the Company wouldn't have let you come up to the room if they thought I was being watched. I don't care about me, but he's extremely jealous. He'd kill you if he found you with me."

"Who knows, maybe I'd get him first. So you _are_ sleeping with him?"

She took a breath and frowned, "Oh Greg, grow up. This isn't for play. I have to act and appear to be his devoted girlfriend. He's your age, he's not going to be dating virgins." She looked at him and realized that it was painful for him to know she was the property of another man, even if it was all an act. "Oh honey, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about all of this. I'm afraid for you."

"Don't worry about me. Just keep yourself safe and come home to me when this is done."

She collapsed in frustration. He just wouldn't leave it alone. She sighed and realized it was easier to let him think she would go home to him than fight with him. She wanted the next sixteen hours to go smoothly, without any angst.

She crawled back in bed and watched as he tried desperately to keep his eyes open.

He shook his head, "I don't want to sleep, I don't want to lose any time with you. But I've been up with a patient for the last forty-eight hours and I'm jet lagged. I'm having a hard time staying awake."

"Get some sleep. I'll still be here in the morning. Besides, one of the things I miss most is hearing you snore." She grinned and he snickered.

She listened as he slipped into a deep slumber, his breath become regular and deep. Eventually he moved onto his back and began to snore. Once he did she was able to sleep. It was a comforting sound to her, something she used to listen for when they were together. It meant that he was safe, secure and sleeping nearby.

They woke at six am. House got up and used the bathroom, brushed his teeth and then waited as she did the same. He showed her his erection when she got back in and she laughed.

"You're a little old for these sexual marathons."

"We'll just see about that. Old guys rule. We know how to pace ourselves."

He stood up and took her from behind, allowing himself room to play with her while he did. He waited for her to catch up before allowing himself to think about how she felt to him. He started to feel her tighten around him and knew she was about to climax. He rubbed harder and made short, powerful thrusts that tipped her over the edge. As he felt her clamp over and over, screaming his name as she did, he let go, yelling out in a mixture of pleasure and release. When he felt the last of his pleasure dissipate he stood up, pulled out of her and laid carefully down on the bed.

After breakfast he suggested a walk but she refused. She couldn't risk it. London was a hotbed of spy activity and just about anyone in the business would be more than happy to identify her if they could. In addition, Diego had plenty of friends in London, rich ones who lived in the area. She might be seen by one of them.

"Well, if you're suppose to be on a shopping spree, how are you going to shop?"

"Don't worry, it will be taken care of."

Around eleven there was a knock on the door. Isibél answered and two bellboys brought in bag after bag from Herrods, Chappell's, Marina Rinaldi and Clio's, along with packages from other, smaller, boutiques. She started rummaging through them.

"I have to know what I bought. Would you like a fashion show?"

"Didn't you buy these?" he asked.

"I've been here with you silly. No, The Company did."

"Sure, dazzle me."

Isibél pulled out the lingerie and saw the look on House's face. He was obviously distressed that the slinky, sexy, lingerie was not intended for him. She decided to put it away for now. She tried on the dresses, jewelry and coats for him. He whistled and kissed her to show her his appreciation.

After half an hour, she appeared in a dress that clung to every curve and made her look thirty. She announced, "This is it, the last of it."

There were several bags that she hadn't touched. "What' s in those bags."

She frowned, "Gifts."

He looked away and then back, "Show me what he's going to get as payment for my few hours with you."

She pulled out a set of sheet music from Chappell's along with a CD. "It's the arrangement of "Cuando Caliente El Sol" that he's wanted. The CD was Mark Anthony. She shrugged, "He likes him." She pulled out a package from DeBeers and opened it. "Oh!" She cried out. "It's a very large diamond tie pin. God, he'll love it." She looked around for more, "That appears to be it."

"My taxpayer money is going to buy this jerk a diamond tie pin?"

"A very large diamond tie pin. Hey, I'm suppose to be stinking wealthy. It wouldn't do if I brought him a tie pin from Macy's."

"Hm. Well, I guess it's worth every penny because I get to be with you."

The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent watching movies, eating and occasionally talking. Around four she got up and went in to take a shower. He didn't join her this time because he could hear her crying. He felt like crap. It was slipping away too fast.

She got out and he heard the hair dryer. After another twenty minutes she came out, dressed, perfumed and ready to go. She walked over to the couch and sat down next to him. She bit her lip several times, drawing blood. "Damn, I can't spoil my makeup or look like I'm upset. He's going to be meeting me."

"In Rome?"

She knew it was no use. He had heard the conversation, so she nodded. "Greg, promise me you won't do any further investigation or even attempt to contact me. You'll get me killed and maybe yourself too."

He knew she was telling the truth. She had been tense the whole time they were together. "I won't let on that you're alive. I promise. Now you promise that when this is over you'll come back to Princeton, give us another chance."

She didn't want to promise him. She didn't know what the future held for her. "I can only promise that when it's over we'll spend some time together, okay?"

He knew that her promise was the best he was going to get for now. "Okay." He held out his arm and she crawled under it and curled up with her head on his chest. They stayed like that until the phone rang.

"It's my car." She got up and picked up the phone. "Send them up in five minutes to get my things. Let the driver know I'll be down in a few minutes." She hung up.

Isibél turned to him and began biting on her lips with her teeth to keep from crying. "Damn, I'm not usually so emotional. But when it comes to you, I can't seem to be rational."

"I love you. When you come home I'll marry you."

She nodded, not in acknowledgment of the meaning of the words, but that he had said them. He kissed her hard and then grabbed his coat so that the driver and assistants wouldn't see him in the room. He looked back at her as he closed the door. She had to sit down, her knees were trembling.

He stood for a few moments on the other side of the door in the hall, his forehead resting on the wall. He straightened up and went to the elevator. As he was getting on, the assistants were getting off. He took the elevator to the lobby.

The elevator door opened in the lobby. Isibél and three young males got out. She walked like a princess and they followed with her luggage and shopping bags. She saw House from the back as he waited outside under the hotel canopy for a taxi. She walked past him and watched as the driver popped the trunk and stored the luggage. She kept her head straight even though she wanted desperately to turn around and look at him, hold him, kiss him. The driver opened the door and she got in, her cashmere coat being tucked in by the driver. She knew this would be her only chance to snatch a last glimpse of him. The driver closed the door and hurried to the driver's side. She looked up and their eyes met. Nothing changed in their expressions, but there was so much longing in both their eyes that it hurt to see it. The car pulled out and into the London traffic headed for Gatwick.


	28. Chapter 19 Part 4

**CHAPTER 19 (PART 4)**

**LIFE GOES ON AND ON AND ON**

House was surprised to find that he had, indeed, been scheduled to receive a real award from _Nature_ although he later found out that the ceremony had been hastily put together because it normally was held during the spring. It didn't matter that there were only a few dozen attendees. It meant that House didn't have to give some long, drawn out speech. The ceremony included a lunch so House stayed for that.

When he got home Monday, he took the award into work and put it on Cuddy's desk. "You're rather subdued. How did it go?"

"Great. I got an award, I was fed a free lunch and I got laid."

"How nice for you." Cuddy said with a look of disgust. "Don't you want to hang this in your office?"

"Why? I know I'm good. It seems you're the one that needs reminding. You keep it here."

She looked at him, her face scrunched up and tilted slightly, "There's something different about you. What happened?"

"Jet lag." He turned and left her office.

Later that day both Cuddy and Wilson cornered House. Wilson started the discussion, "You haven't said a word about Isibél being alive since you got home. What's with that?"

House looked up from his desk at the two inquiring faces and shrugged his shoulders, looked to the side and said, "Gee Mom, Dad, she's dead, I was wrong. Now I know. Not much I can do about it so I have to move on?"

Wilson didn't believe him, "How do you know she's dead?"

"Because I met her doppelganger in London. The one I mistook for her. Morell arranged it. She walks like her, even has her legs, but it's not her. They also showed me photos of her body."

Cuddy and Wilson turned sober. House could tell that they had secretly hoped he was right and that Isibél was alive. He had an urge to put them out of the misery and let them in on the big secret, but he decided that he couldn't, not if he wanted the CIA's cooperation in the future.

Cuddys voice went soft, "I'm sorry House. I know this is a big blow to you."

"You're right, this has been a little too much. I need some time off. I'm going to take a trip. I've always wanted the Pope to bless me. I think I'll go to Rome for a week or so."

Wilson sat down, "I don't know, this sounds fishy. The woman you thought was Isibél works for the CIA too?"

"No, they arranged for me to meet her under false pretenses. She's head of a charity and I was supposedly a possible donor."

Wilson bought it, "Oh." He looked as if he was going to say something to reassure House, but he stopped himself. He just pinched his lips together, looked at House with sympathy and left with Cuddy.


	29. Chapter 20 Part 1

**CHAPTER 20**

**DIEGO'S FRIENDS**

For the last two years I had been following the money. I had tapped into Diego's computers at work, home, and even his laptop, which he took everywhere. In all the time we were together, a year and a half, I had only been caught at the computer once, but I had already arranged for a printout of a map from mapquest and when he came into the room, I hit the print screen which printed the map of where I was going that afternoon. He picked it up from the printer and said nothing to me. I knew from his demeanor that he wasn't fazed or suspicious of me.

The maze of holding companies that he had setup throughout the world, washing the money which came from Yuri's chain of supply and demand, was pure genius. I wasn't a financial wizard, although the Company had tried to give me a crash course in "Money Laundering 101." They finally decided that I would simply download accounts and correspondence, get the names of the companies and contributors and then let them put the puzzle together.

I had reached my primary goal within the year, but since Diego was such a goldmine of information, they had me stay on as his paramour. It was a difficult assignment. Diego was a brilliant financier, but when he wasn't working, he wanted 24/7 attention and that made it difficult for me to do my job for The Company.

We actually got along very well and, for the most part, I didn't have to fake that. There were times when he was a little too macho or too jealous that made me cringe. But, he was also cultured, musically talented (violin and guitar) and playful. He had so much money that we could go and do just about whatever we wanted to do provided he had the time off.

I had to study Diego's habits and quirks before I met him. I also met with a profiler who told me the kind of woman that would appeal to Diego. And then I became that woman. I had to be more detached, less demonstrative yet be more seductive and sensual.

I knew right away when I pulled the tie pin out of the bag that, although it was a real three carat diamond, it was actually a cover for a bugging device. I hated giving these kinds of presents, it made me more vulnerable because I wasn't in control of the equipment. I met up with Diego in Rome and we immediately went out to dinner so that he could wear his square diamond tie pin. Several friends commented on it and he was obviously pleased with the attention.

"Darling, I have a business associate coming over to the apartment next week and I'd like you to be available for lunch." he said, smiling charmingly over at me.

"Really? Who's coming?"

"Yuri Belyakova. You haven't met him, but he's anxious to meet you. I've described you to him and he says you remind him of someone he used to know. He personally asked if you could be present tomorrow."

"Of course." I quickly wiped the beads of sweat that were forming above my lip. Luckily, if the diamond pin was doing its job, the Company would know that my cover could be blown tomorrow. My mind was racing as I pretended to listen to Diego. He mentioned music and parties, but I wasn't registering what he was saying.

If Yuri was coming to the apartment we kept in Rome, then it would be difficult for me to back out of the lunch. I could always complain about traffic or have something that delayed me if the lunch was scheduled at a restaurant, but at home, I would be considered the hostess and expected to present the meal. Even if I feigned being sick, the apartment was filled with photos of Diego and me. And, although I thought I looked different, I hadn't fooled Greg. I wasn't sure I could fool Yuri.

It was a good sign that Yuri was coming for a visit. It meant that he had important business to discuss, something he didn't want shared over the net, the phone or in the mail. I needed to let this meeting go forward, but not meet Yuri. I could only think of one thing to do.

On the day Yuri was to come to lunch,I went to the market with our cook to pick out fresh food for our guest. I stopped and picked up some Camponata, a sweet and sour relish that contains anchovies. I bought some crackers and started tasting it while I was at the market and by the time I got home, a quarter of it was gone and I felt like hell. My cook, who had been driving, looked at me and jerked back in shock. I knew I was achieving the result I had wanted. I'm allergic to anchovies. Not only allergic, but they make my mouth and cheeks swell, my face break out in a hideous rash and I itch all over. It goes away in a day or two, but I virtually become unrecognizable.

I walked into the apartment and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water (my mouth gets dry and scratchy too.) I ran back to the bathroom and found some cortisone cream and started rubbing it on the itchy parts of my face. I was standing at the mirror when Diego came in. He let out a short screech when he saw my face.

"Bella! Dios mio. What is wrong with your face?"

I forced myself to cry, which wasn't hard to do because of the discomfort. "It itches and burns. I think I'm allergic to the Camponata I bought at the market."

"You need attention." He turned and yelled out the door to our servant, "Manolo, call Dr. Tartoli and get him here quick.' He turned back to me. "I can't postpone this lunch darling, but certainly you can't come. I'll arrange for it to be at Luigi's off the of the Spanish Steps. That way you can get some treatment and rest without strangers around."

I knew he wouldn't want Yuri to see his prize possession looking like a pimpled face Charlie Brown. He had wanted to show me off. "Thank you darling. I am so sorry. Please tell Mr. Blakyoda that I am sorry."

"It's Belyakova. You'll meet him later, I'm sure. He's going to be here for a week."

My heart sank , but I wasn't through yet. When the doctor arrived I faked a mental breakdown, moaning that I needed to see my shrink in New York. He called Diego and explained to him that I was not only sick and allergic, but mentally exhausted and should see my doctor in New York right away. Diego cut his meeting short with Yuri and rushed home.

"But New York? Isn't there someone here in Rome?"

"He knows me, he knows my family background. Whenever I get stressed out, he's the only one that can help."

"But Yuri still wants to meet you and I promised him that as soon as the swelling went down, he could come over."

I looked Diego in the eye and asked, "Why is he so keen to meet me?"

"I told you, he saw a photo of us and said you reminded him of someone he knew, but he'd love to meet you in person."

My head was swimming. If he suspected it was me, leaving would set off all kinds of bells and whistles. "Bring him over tomorrow tonight. I'll stay home and meet him."

"But you're still swollen."

"Yes, but it should be better tomorrow tonight." I knew I would still be swollen because I'd just have a few more anchovies, but I figured the only chance I had to save my cover was for Yuri to meet me while I was still bloated. Between the swelling, the hair, contacts and bridge work, I was hoping I looked different enough to fool him. It was a terrible chance, but I had to take it.

Diego agreed and called Yuri to make the arrangements. Before Yuri arrived, I went through the living room and noticed that there were six photos of Diego and I. I removed four of them and kept out the two where you could barely see me or my head was in profile. I put on my fat dress, the one that added ten pounds to my figure (the one that Diego hated.) I took off all makeup except mascara and I wore flats.

When I finally made my debut for Diego he drew back with a scowl. "Darling, maybe we should cancel tonightd? You look like you need to rest."

"Nonsense, I'm dying to meet your friend."

At 7:30 pm the doorbell rang and our servant answered the door. I braced myself for his entrance, parking myself on the sofa. When he walked in I was somewhat shocked at his looks. Although he still had that rugged handsome face, it had aged. I wondered if he would think the same about me, if he knew who I was? He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a black silk t-shirt underneath. He was just short of six feet and broad at the shoulders. His gray beard was cropped short and his hair was somewhat long. He was still sexy, just older, more withered around his eyes.

He was incredibly gracious, not letting on one way or another if he knew who I was. I could tell he was trying hard not to look at me, but that could be because I looked so grotesque with the swollen jowels and hives all over. Frankly, I was willing to bet that he didn't know who I was. I was gracious and attentive and soon he treated me as if I wasn't even in the room. When they began to talk about business, I excused myself and went to our bedroom to read.

Diego saw our guest out and joined me in our room. "He wanted to wish you a speedy recovery."

"So, do I really remind him of this woman?"

He laughed and shook his head, "He said that you had a slight resemblance in the photo, but were nothing like her in person."

"Well, I'm not very pretty right now with this allergy."

"You're beautiful to me."

I had to give it to Diego, he could be very kind and sweet when he wanted to be, especially behind closed doors.

I took a large dose of Bennidryl and slept well that night.

In the morning I woke to a cool but sun-filled Roman day. I was in good spirits after the close call. As I got up, Diego reached over and I knew he wanted me. I felt my good spirits slipping. After my night with Greg, I felt cheap sleeping with Diego. But I smiled back at him and placed my hands on his chest and rubbed up against him with my breasts causing him to close his eyes and smile.

After he was done (my pleasure was never a concern of his), I got up and went into the bathroom, took a shower and then dressed. Diego came into the dressing room. "I received a call from Yuri. I invited him to join us this weekend down in Casserta. Do you have any single friends who might join us?"

"I could ask Angelina. She probably has the weekend free since she broke up with David."

"Yes, I think she would do nicely."

I didn't like Angelina, she was beautiful and witty, but a real b!tch and often petty. But she could charm men out of their money and make them feel good about themselves. She would be perfect for Yuri.

But once again I was going to place myself in jeopardy. After a weekend with me, would Yuri still think I was someone else? I didn't think so and I started to feel the stress again.

I ate breakfast and then Yoly, our maid came in to find me. In Italian she told me that there was a vendor at the door asking for me. I didn't like it when this happened, because I felt vulnerable without my gun, but, as the mistress of the house, I had to answer it. I went to the door, but I approached it from the side so that I could evaluate the situation before exposing myself fully to the person at the door.

"Ms. Bijou?" he asked in haulting English.

"Yes?" I answered.

"We have freesias today and gladiolas on the cart."

This was a code letting me know that he was from The Company and he had a communication for me. "Wonderful, let me grab my wallet and coat so that I can come down with you."

I grabbed my coat and my wallet and as we walked down to the elevator, he thrust an earpiece in my hand. I stuck it in my ear and pretended to talk to the vendor and, when we got to his cart, we pretended to carry on a conversation about the flowers for anyone who might be looking out a window.

I smiled broadly and began to smell the various flowers. "O'Rourke here."

"O'Rourke, we want the Russian put to bed."

I flinched, "Bed? I thought he was a major player?"

"We know who he reports to and who's sponsoring him. We can make do without him. He's jeopardizing your position and we've decided that, rather than remove you, we'll remove the threat."

I was shocked. I had just been given orders to take Yuri out. I was stunned. I stood there a little dazed, waiting for the confirming code from Morell. I continued to pretend to pick out a bouquet. I heard a beep and then it came, "Tango, tango, delta, tau." It was confirmed. I was given orders to kill Yuri. I felt sick to my stomach. I turned and looked at the agent selling me the flowers.

"You look horrible, like someone died."

"They did." I gave him money and he handed me the bouquet.

I spent the afternoon thinking it through. I knew that if Yuri had identified me, he'd take me out in a heartbeat. But still, we had refrained from hurting each other over the years. There had been a certain amount of respect between us, even friendship. I had to really think this through.

That evening I had the servants serve the best Cherimoya fruit I could find. It was so delicious I knew that Diego would comment about it.

"Darling, what is this fruit?"

"Cherimoya...from Peru."

"It's delicious."

"Diego, I was thinking that we should send your friend a welcome basket. You know wine, cheese, fruit. Like we did for Taylor Morton when he and his wife came."

He laughed. "Well, Yuri's not exactly like the other clients that have visited us." He sat back and smiled at me, "Still, it would be a nice gesture. One he wouldn't expect." He nodded at me, "Yes, I think that would be fine."

"I'll call the Florida and have them put a basket together for us. What hotel and room is he in?"

"Hotel Via San Pio." He pulled out his little notebook, "Room 320."

"Wonderful. I better go call Angelina and see if she can make it this weekend."

I got up and made my arrangements. The next evening I waited until Diego left and then pulled out my suitcase. I unzipped the hidden compartment and pulled out the box containing my gun and assembled it. I put on a Valentino dress made of spun silk and pashmina that wrapped and clung to my body. It had a deep plunge and three quarter sleeves. It was a deep blue. I wore my sapphire earrings and deep blue high heels along with my cashmere coat. I took a large satchel with my tools.

I drove to the hotel and went through the back entrance on the lower level where the washers and dryers were located. I made my way into the employee locker room. One of the employees saw me and I simply asked in Italian if the employers were treating them well. I took out a clip board and pretended to make comments on it as I looked around. She soon ignored me and went upstairs. I found a uniform and quickly put it on in the women's rest room. I rolled my dress up and put it in the satchel. I took out a pair of nurses shoes and gloves and put them on. I took the satchel with me to the third floor as if I was delivering a piece of luggage.

When I reached the third floor I looked to see if there was anyone around. When I had secured the area, I took out The Company card reader. The card reader sends out sequential pulses through the door lock until it finally hits the jackpot. It takes approximately two to three minutes before it opens the room lock. I watched as the lock turned green and I pushed the door open. I took my satchel inside and looked around. I took a look around and started to get dressed back into my clothes. For some reason, I wanted Yuri to see me decked out one more time. I primped in front of the mirror, took a paper towel and cleaned the counter and then sat down in a corner chair facing the door and waited. I was good at waiting, always focused. By now I was calm and ready to get it over with. The clock continued to tick away and finally at 8:06 pm I heard the card reader click and the door start to open. I raised my gun as I sat in the dark corner. He hit the light switch and within a fraction of a second my eyes adjusted. He threw the card on the table and it was then that he saw a glimpse of me in the corner. He immediately went for his gun.

If it were Hollywood, I would have yelled and stopped him. We would have a conversation about our mutual admiration, how unfair life was and the hope that I would be forgiven. But the reality is that once an operative sees another operative waiting in ambush, that person knows that their only chance to live is to get off a shot. So there's no time for idle chit chat before you kill someone.

I shot at him, but he managed to dodge just enough that the bullet hit his head, but it did not kill him. I walked over and stepped on his arm to keep him from getting to his gun and then I looked him straight in his eyes. We acknowledged each other briefly. He did say one thing to me in Russian, "I knew. I was coming for you."

I shot him in the head again and then in the heart. I felt sad. He was the last of the great KGB spies that I had worked with in the field. I took a look around the hotel and on his person. I hit the jackpot, he was carrying a blackberry filled with information. I slipped it in the satchel, changed back into the cleaning uniform and snuck out.

I was home by ten. Diego was still out with his friends. I put my gun and the uniform in the secret compartment of my luggage at the back of the closet and began my shower to clean up. I knew that Yuri's death would never make the newspapers, the new Russian intelligence service would work out something with Servizio per le Informazioni e la Sicurezza Militare, the Italian Military Intelligence Agency and Yuri's body would disappear as if he never existed, just like mine would if I were shot. Occasionally, an operative becomes the subject of a civilian investigation, but that usually happened when the hit was done by those outside of intelligence, by some drug dealer, terrorists, guerrilla group or civilian. The Company would have called the Russians out of courtesy and informed them of their rogue agent's death. The Russians were probably cleaning the blood off the carpet as I was taking my shower.

I jumped out of the shower just in time to hear the front door of the apartment slam. Our apartment had two large bronze doors that clanged if not closed slowly and gently. The apartment in Rome was about 4,000 square feet, but it housed both Diego and I and two live-in servants in the downstairs quarters. We only had one guest room to spare.

I heard yelling in Spanish, which became screaming in Italian. It was Diego and something was wrong. I put on my robe and went out to the balcony. He was furious and when he first looked up at me, I thought he was angry at me. The look he gave me worried me. _Does he know? Yuri said he knew it was me, that he was coming for me. Had he already told someone, Diego perhaps?_

I went back into the room and dressed in some casual clothes and then went downstairs. I was calm, as usual.

"Darling, what is it?"

He looked at me suspiciously and then knocked back a whiskey on the rocks. "I received a call tonight from Yuri. He wanted to meet me at nine to tell me something. He said it was something about you, but he wanted to tell me in person. He didn't show. I waited for hours and then went to his hotel, he wasn't there. There was another Russian in his room who said he had been renting the room for the last two days." He poured another drink, "He's disappeared. I can't get him on his phone." He crossed the room to me and stuck his face inches from mine, "What was he going to tell me about you?"

I thought about how I should approach this. _Should I act nervous, calm, angry? He's suspicious. I should be indignant. I should go on the offensive._

"_Are you accusing me of something?_" I growled with my jaw clenched and my eyes on fire.

"Yuri was ex-KGB. He knew a lot, had seen a lot. He recognized you from somewhere, where was it?"

I had to think, what would be plausible. I walked away, sat down in a chair and looked coldly at him, "Yuri recognized me because when I was at University I was involved with a Spaniard, he was very active in the ETA. I spent a summer with him in Spain. I was with him when he and his friends robbed a bank to support the group. I didn't know he was going to do it. He actually used me as a front. I waited in line to exchange my Traveler's cheques when he pulled the gun on the teller. I did what he told me to do, because I knew he'd kill the teller and me if I didn't. But the photos all showed me cooperating. I guess Yuri was going to tell you that the Feds keep track of my whereabouts. I was cleared, but they never forget." I had borrowed heavily from one of my previous identities and events that had actually happened to me.

He looked at me. It was a plausible story considering I spoke fluent Spanish and when we had been in Spain I had shown him several places where I had stayed when I was (supposedly) going to college. On occasion Diego and I would both get pulled into separate rooms when we went through customs at the various borders or airports. Diego thought it was because of him and his reputation with the various agencies. But in reality, I was being pulled in to meet my handler for that country. It would make sense that Yuri would tell Diego that I was on some list of the Feds so that Diego would be aware that I was being watched. I didn't think Diego would really worry too much about the Feds watching me. He knew that they were already watching him. The fact that they were watching me too just meant we had to be even more careful.

I waited to see what his reaction would be. He stared at me while he passed an ice cube around in his mouth from his drink. Then I saw it, his forehead relaxed just a little. He was beginning to believe me.

I saw the tie pin and realized that my friends back at the Farm were probably frantically pulling up my previous identity so that they could generate proof for Diego if I needed it.

"Who was this lover?"

"Francisco Carlos Sevilla." I said without hesitation. _Thank God I had a great memory._

He sat down and that's when I volunteered. "When we return to Los Angeles, I can show you some of the clippings. I kept them to remind me not to trust a fanatic."

This caused a brief smile to flash across his face. I'm sure he was reflecting on his own business. It looked as if I had bought some time, but the current events would definitely trigger a response from The Company and probably a removal of me from the playing field. The Company tries desperately to protect us. If they didn't, most of the agents would leave the service. Plus, they didn't want our information to fall into the wrong hands. Of course, they also hated investing millions of dollars in training and time on us just to find us dead in a hotel room.

"You're probably right." Diego said. He walked across the room, poured another drink and then turned to me.

I hadn't liked his tone. His body was relaxing, but the tone of his voice still clearly showed signs of skepticism. I was in trouble. We went to bed and I prayed that I wouldn't wake up with a knife at my throat. I had to relax, get some sleep and take care of business in the morning. Diego had drank enough that he wasn't going anywhere or doing anything, tonight.

The flower vendor showed up the next day for payment and a cart supposedly full of new Orchids. I went down, put the receiver in my ear and waited.

"O'Rourke," I said after hearing the telltale click.

"3:00 pm Hassler Rooftop Restaurant, brown suit, purple shirt, beard."

The receiver went dead. I nodded at my flower vendor, paid for the orchids while I slipped him the receiver and went back upstairs. Diego and I were sitting at the breakfast table. He was catching up on files before his meetings at his office downtown. I tried to read him, but all I got was a look that said he had a hangover.

"Darling, are we still going out tonight with Tzinsky and his wife?"

"Yes, 8:00 pm. Villa del La Croce." There was no venom in his voice, just physical pain from his headache.

"I'll be ready." I got up, kissed his cheek and started to walk away. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. He looked at me intently, as if he was trying to read me. He pushed his coffee away and grabbed me around my waist, lifted me to the edge of the table, threw up my robe and nightgown. I realized that he was unzipping his pants and that he meant to have me on the table, something so out of the ordinary for him that I was both scared and excited.

He grabbed my knees, pulled me forward a little, threw my legs open and penetrated me without any fanfare. He pumped over and over, with force. There were no sounds except the release of my breath and little grunts I let out each time I felt a thrust. He was rather large and, contrary to what the porn magazines say, someone that large can hurt when they aren't gentle. But, I kept my discomfort to myself and took it. He moaned when he came and I was sure the staff was going to come running, but they didn't. I suspected someone had already discovered us and warned everyone to stay out.

He pulled out of me and looked down to zip himself up. I really didn't know what he expected me to say or do.

"Are we done?" I asked.

He nodded.

I stood up and straightened out my gown and robe, "Was that pleasure or punishment?"

"You should have told me. I need to know these things about you. My work means that I need to work under the radar. I don't care about your past, I just needed to know so that I can make adjustments, maybe travel in separate planes on occasion."

I nodded and said nothing. He walked over and put his arms gingerly around me. "I love you Gwen, please remember not to hold things from me in the future.'

He kissed me and then turned to grab his coat and leave. I was completely confused. His voice had been sincere, he sounded as if he was only upset because I had not told him. I wasn't sure what I should do, so I did nothing. The Company had heard our little tabletop scene and would add it to their analysis. I'd wait and hear from big Daddy.

I went to the rooftop restaurant overlooking the Spanish Steps and scoured the patrons. I saw him. It was Anthony San Filippi, a handler I had worked with before. I joined him at the back of the restaurant, at a corner table, both of us sat with our backs to the walls. He stood up and gave me the Italian air kiss.

"Good to see you. You look stunningly beautiful."

I smiled, Anthony had always been a flirt. "Thank you. You look great too. Have you ordered?"

"Yes, I ordered for you too, some light appetizers and water with gas, is that okay?"

"Of course." I wasn't there for the food and he knew it.

The waiter brought the water and sandwiches. I ate a bite and then looked at Anthony, "Well? What does Papa say?"

"Papa thought you should get out, but after your morning tryst at the breakfast table, he's not sure that you need to."

_Great, they're having the same dialogue in their respective heads that I'm having._ "What's the decision?"

"They've decided to make it your decision. What was your impression about the morning events?"

"It was out of character for him. Usually he's a "behind closed doors" lover. I think it was a display of dominance, meant to warn me. I figure if he really thought I was a threat, he wouldn't have done that, I would just be a body in a dumpster by now."

Anthony nodded. There were times I hated handlers. They were like voyeurs, sitting off on the sidelines, monitoring everything you did and never getting their hands dirty. I couldn't recall a single handler getting hurt or killed in my entire career. But I liked Anthony, he was good at what he did and he had extricated me from a sticky situation in Instanbul ten years ago. I owed him a big Thank You.

I was worried and, as I've mentioned before, when I get worried I assume an air of authority. Anthony picked up on it, "You seem to have everything in control. So you're going to keep going?"

I nodded and took another bite. "I've got to go, I have to get back and get ready for tonight. Tell the big boys thanks for all their help." I said it tongue in cheek and Anthony smiled.

I got up and left, thinking just how much I had to do before I got home. I had to run by and pick up Diego's new suit that was being tailored and then find some shoes to go with my new dress. I know it sounds like a nice life, but when you're constantly thinking about your life being in the balance, the last thing you want to do is go shoe shopping.


	30. Chapter 20 Part 2

DEAR READERS - WE'RE GETTING CLOSE TO THE END. PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THE STORY.

Chapter 20 Part 2 Diego's Friends

I got home at seven and saw that the light in the library was on which meant that Diego was home. I opened the front door, put down the packages and headed towards the library. I noticed a bouquet of red roses on the entry table. The door was opened and I saw Diego sitting in one of the wingback chairs talking to someone in the room.

I sauntered into the room, "Darling, I picked up your suit and your..." I stopped. I was stunned into silence.

Diego stood up smiling, "Darling, come in, Dr. House is here to see you. He was just telling me that you found his wallet at the airport in London and tracked him down to return it. Did you know Dr. House is a well-known physician? He's been asked to speak all over the world. He just stopped by to give you the flowers. Did you see them?"

I looked at Diego with saucers for eyes and my mouth slightly opened. I tried to comment, but was too disoriented to say anything that would make sense.

"Darling? Aren't you going to thank Dr. House?"

House stood, smiling at me. He was dressed in a blue sports jacket, tan silk sweater (which I had bought for him) and tan slacks. He was looking very handsome and rather cocky.

"Ah...yes, of course. Where are my manners?" I crossed the room with my hand outstretched, "Thank you for the flowers, but you shouldn't have. Anyone would have returned the wallet."

"Yes, but very few people would have gone through the lengths you did to get it to me. I mean, personally delivering it to me at my hotel and refusing to let me reimburse you for your efforts, I just had to do something."

"Well, again, thank you. You'll have to excuse Diego and me, we have plans to meet our friends for dinner."

Diego interrupted, "Darling, I've asked Dr. House to join us. I'm sure the Tzinskis won't mind. In fact, you know his wife used to be a doctor."

I was flabbergasted. I tried to imagine House sitting with two major backers of terrorism. I knew House's mouth alone could start a Jihad. I looked to see if Diego had his tie pin on, but he didn't. "Dr. House, I'm sure we'll bore you to tears. I'm sure you have better things to do in Rome."

"Actually, I arrived last night and discovered that the medical society didn't book my room. I had an awful time finding something. I finally found something on the Via Caputo."

Via Caputo was in the tenderloin area of the city. It was well known for renting rooms by the hour to unsavory people. I saw Diego react right away. "Dr. House, we have an extra room, you should stay here tonight. We'll send for your luggage."

I jumped, "Oh,Diego! The room hasn't been aired and the sheets are dirty. I'm sure Dr. House understands."

"Nonsense, the servants can clean it while we're at dinner. Will you be our houseguest Dr. House?"

"That's most gracious, but if I'm imposing..." He gave him the most "sincere" puppy dog face I had seen in a long time.

"Of course not. Ignore Gwen, Dr. House. She just likes everything to be perfect."

"She reminds me of my ex."

Diego laughed, "Your ex? That doesn't sound very complimentary." He continued to laugh as he looked over at me.

"Oh, it is. My ex left me. She was too good for me. I never understood why she stayed as long as she did."

"Well, if you'll excuse Gwen and I, we'll go get ready. Please make yourself at home.'

We left House sitting in the library, having a drink. Diego grabbed his new suit and we went to the bedroom.

"What were you thinking?" I asked. "He's a complete stranger?"

"I've heard of him. Do you remember Joey Arnello? The mafioso who testified against the mob."

"Yes." I cringed inside. I had friends in the FBI who had worked the case for years. It became their lives.

"House saved his life. I remember his brother telling me at a party one time that Dr. Gregory House was the biggest sshole, but the best doctor in the world. He told me that if he ever got really sick, he'd hire House. Dr. House also treated that senator, Gary Wrigh. And the famous bicyclist..." He was trying to remember the biker's name.

"Alright. I can see you're enamored with him. I'll treat him well, but tomorrow we find him a good hotel room."

He picked me up in his arms, "Si Cara mia."

I took a shower while Diego took his in the other bathroom. I dressed, put on makeup and my jewelry. I did this at breakneck speed in an effort to have a few seconds alone with Greg. I was running through the dining area, slipping my shoes on my feet as I did, and burst into the library. Greg was sitting, reading a book. He looked up and grinned.

"Hello Gwen." he got up and came over. I saw that he was going to try and hug me so I immediately pushed him back.

"No!" I shouted in a whisper. "_This is not a game. You are playing with both of our lives. Please make an excuse and leave. You're going to get me killed. He already has suspicions about me. You're going to add fuel to the fire. Please Greg, please go home!"_

"I'll behave. I just wanted to see how he was treating you."

"Fine, just fine. Now leave!'

"That would be rude. I'll go tomorrow."

I heard the phone ring, but no one came for me to take the call so I assumed it was for Diego. I grabbed the book out of his hand and put it down. I took him by the arm and started to drag him to the library door. He pulled away. I started shaking from anger and fear. I clinched my jaw and burned a hole in him with my eyes.

"Damn it Greg, you're going to screw up two years of my life and hard work. Two years of prostituting myself and having to be someone I'm not. For God's sake, please go. I'm begging you with all of my heart, _go._ I don't want to have to worry about you."

His shoulders fell and his lips pursed in shame. He looked away from me and then said, "I'll go after dinner, I won't stay the night. Just let me have dinner with you."

I heard Diego coming towards the library. I looked at the book Greg had been reading, picked it up and said, "Yes, well you know that Claudius predicted that Jesus was the Messiah and not Herod."

House looked confused until he saw Diego enter. "Really? Is that in here?"

"No, he talks about it in, "_Claudius the God_."

"Do you have that one too?"

"I'm not sure." I turned to look at Diego, "Dear, do we have _Claudius the God_?"

Diego took the book out of my hand and looked at it, "No, I'm afraid I only have, _I Claudius._"

"I'll have to pick it up in Princeton." House said casually.

Diego, motioned to the door. "Shall we go?"

The driver took us to the restaurant and dropped us off. We went inside and were greeted warmly by Boleslaw and Donata Tzinski. The introductions were made and it was House who pulled my chair out for me (a first.) I sat down and he immediately grabbed the chair next to me, leaving Diego to take the sit to my left which was at the head of the table.

The waiter came to take our drink order, "Auchentoshan." I said, forgetting that it had been the whiskey I had used to lure a kiss from House at the jazz bar.

He snickered, "I think I'll have the same, it's been a long time since I had one."

"So, Dr. House, what brings you to Rome?" Donata asked in Italian.

"I'm taking part in a symposium." He answered back in fluent Italian.

I started to think that we were a strange group. One was a native Spanish speaker, two native Czech and two English. Yet, we were conversing in Italian. I knew that Boleslaw and Diego spoke English, but I wondered if Donata did. Whenever we were together we spoke Italian.

I decided to try it. I said in English to Donata, "Dr. House is apparently a very sought after physician." I saw it register easily in her mind.

"Really doctor?" She answered back in English, "What is your specialty?"

Her English was as fluent as her Italian. From there on out, the conversation was in English.

"Diagnostics. I diagnose those people that everyone else has given up on."

"How facinating. Please tell us about one of your cases."

Greg started to tell the story of a young woman who had the plague. As he did, my mind wandered to what I was going to do; how I was going to get rid of Greg. I was just in the middle of coming up with a plan when I felt those long fingers crawling over my thigh and pulling up my skirt. I casually put my drink down, took my napkin and patted my mouth. When I went to put it back in my lap I bent his fingers back as hard as I could without showing that I was straining my muscles. His hand flew off as he continued with his story. Everyone seemed very interested because they asked several questions.

The hand was back and I was starting to get beads of sweat on the top of my lip. I pushed out from the table. "Excuse me, but I have to use the restroom."

House stood up, "Do you mind if I escort you? I need to use the men's room. I've been drinking all of your whiskey and it's finally run through."

I think my jaw dropped a little. I hadn't expected him to be so bold, but in a way, it was so out of the ordinary that it wouldn't draw suspicion. "Of course. Donata, do you need to go?"

"No dear, I'm fine. Besides you already have a companion. I'm sure Dr. House will make sure your lipstick isn't smeared." They all laughed. I tried to laugh too.

We made our way across the floor at a faster than normal clip for a couple going to the bathroom. I was trying to get out in front of him, way out front. We went through the doors, into the hall and as I was passing the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and yanked me into the kitchen. The help ignored us. I guess Italian chefs are used to couples just barging in.

"What are you doing out there?" I was shaking and getting red in the face, "You may not value your life, but I value mine. Stop this crap now!"

He grabbed me, pulled me into him and as I struggled in front of a dozen Italian kitchen workers and chefs, he nailed a kiss. I almost bit off his tongue just to teach him a lesson, but the smell of him so close to me tugged at my heart and I felt my shoulders collapse as I slipped further into his arms. I returned the kiss and then backed away, slowly. I looked at him and I'm sure he could see how scared and sad I was, because he gave me a look that begged forgiveness. I shook my head and then crashed back through the doors and down the hall to the restroom.

As I entered I was looking down, thinking about what had happened. I jumped when I heard Donata say, "I knew it. I could tell that there was something between you two."

I went white and felt my knees wobble. I stared at her, trying to remember her part in this sorted game. She and her husband were arms dealers. Surprisingly, she did the negotiating and meeting with the sellers and buyers while Boleslaw handled the complicated financial aspect of the deals. He and Diego were friends because they both spoke the same language of finance.

"Donata, I just met him."

She let out a peal of laughter, "You're frightened, you think I'm going to tell Diego. Oh don't worry. I could care less, I was just curious. He's handsome and entertaining and he's madly in love with you. What are you doing with a boring ss like Diego?"

"Stability. He gives me stability. I always know he'll take care of me."

"I would think Dr. House makes a good wage.

I chuckled, "Not enough for private jets." I knew Donata would believe staying for money over love. It would be harder to fake that I loved Diego more, so I just spoke the international language of the rich.

"True." She said, nodding. "Well, keep him on the side, but tell him to stop giving you those looks. I picked up on them right away, it's only a matter of time before the males at our table finally register that he's oozing love for you." She gave me a motherly smile even though we were the same age.

"Thank you. I appreciate your candor."

"Gwen, I've always liked you, but you're a dark horse. I know there's more to you than we see."

"I think we can say that about anyone."

She nodded again and turned back to the mirror. I went to the stall and when I got out, washed my hands, primped and left with Donata leading the way. When we got back, Donata took my seat. I was a little confused, but I quickly took hers.

"Dr. House, I told Gwen that I wanted to read your palm when we got back to the table. Do you mind?"

"Dr. House, you are a married man in your heart. You love someone so much that you'd risk everything for her. Unfortunately, by doing that, you may be risking much more. Hmmm..." She rubbed his palm, "You may be causing her substantial trouble and possible harm. You're curiosity has caused you grief in the past and continues to do so today. You must be careful Dr. House or everything you want could come tumbling down around your feet."

Boleslaw was clearly shocked by his wife, "Donata! That was a terrible thing to say to Dr. House. He's Diego's guest."

She looked into Greg's eyes and smiled, "You don't mind the truth, do you Dr. House? In fact, you prefer the truth to just about anything."

House looked back into her eyes and slowly shook his head. I could tell that he understood and he looked scared. He couldn't look at me for the rest of the night. And when Donata and I exchanged seats again, he kept his hands to himself.

When the meal was over, we climbed in the back of the limousine and started back to the apartment. Greg was sitting next to me. He leaned around to address Diego, "Diego, when I went to the restroom, I called the hotel I had originally planned to stay at and they have a room. I appreciate your kindness, but when we get back to your place, I'll grab my things and go to the hotel. I have an early morning meeting and it would be best if I were at the hotel where it is being held."

"I understand, you are, of course, welcomed to stay with us."

"Thank you, both of you, but I should sleep at the hotel."

It was decided and I relaxed. Where I couldn't get through to Greg, Donata did. We were all quiet and in our own thoughts when I felt the car change directions. We took a turn that wasn't on our way to the apartment.


	31. Chapter 20 Part 3

**DEAR READERS - Only one more post after this. So PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE THE STORY.**

**Chapter 20 Part 3 **

**Diego's Friends**

**Diego flipped the switch and the privacy window dropped, "What are you doing Guido?"**

**The driver turned around, but it wasn't Guido. He said nothing, but pulled a gun, which he aimed at us. I didn't have a weapon on me and I doubted Diego was carrying one either. It was usually unnecessary in Italy. The car pulled over and both doors in the back were opened by men in ski masks and automatic rifles. My heart raced, without the diamond pin, I doubted the Farm knew what was going on.**

**They spoke in Russian, "Get out, get out!"**

**I told Greg, "They want us to get out."**

**He got out and I got out with him. I should have gotten out with Diego, just because he was my boyfriend, but I felt like I needed to protect Greg. If they were speaking Russian, then this was about Yuri and my cover was probably going to be blown anyway. They motioned for us to get into the back of a car. We did and they took off. They took us to a meat packing factory and we were forced by gunpoint inside. Nothing was said, but I was beginning to get a very bad feeling.**

**I turned to the Russians, "Please, let Dr. House go, he knows nothing and has nothing of interest. Let him go now. He's our guest. "**

**The tall, rather muscular man, came over and slapped me hard, sending my head bobbing and my body sprawling, "Shut up! The American stays. You think we can believe any of you? We know what you did to Yuri. Maybe it was this "guest" who did it?" He looked at all three of us and started to poke Greg with the rifle. He pushed him and then took out a revolver, "What did you do to Yuri, Mr. Guest?"**

**I jumped up and pushed between the two of them so that the gun was now aimed at me. I pushed his away from Greg. He took the butt of his revolver and hit me across the face with it. The pain shot up into my forehead. I knew that my nose was probably broken. Blood was spewing everywhere. Diego did nothing, but Greg jumped at the guy who, with a simple move, managed to send Greg flying in the opposite direction. Greg ended up splayed on the floor. I crawled over to him and saw that he was alright, just winded and bruised. He looked up at me and sat up. I quickly shook my head to warn him not to acknowledge our relationship.**

**I was bleeding down the front of my face and onto my blouse and could feel some of it draining down the back of my throat.**

**Diego spoke up, "I _told you _on the phone that I would take care of her. Why are you doing this?"**

**"Because she's still here, isn't she?" The tall man said.**

**"I also told you I couldn't kill her until our guest had left. Now he'll have to be dealt with. You have really screwed up, he's well known in the States, you can't kill him or the Feds be forced to look for him."**

**The tall one went over to Diego and said with venom in his voice, "Well then, maybe we'll just teach him a powerful lesson to keep his mouth shut. Take her into the other room." **

**Two of the men came towards me and I started to fight, knocking one of the down. I was about to take the other out when the tall guy aimed his gun, not at Diego, but at Greg. **

**"We'll shoot your _guest_ if you don't behave. He'll live if you cooperate. If you don't then, how do you Americans say? He'll sleep with the sharks?"**

**I looked at Diego, "Diego? Are you going to let them take me? Darling, please?"**

**"Stop playing games, I know that you're a Spook. I know that you probably killed Yuri. I'm dissapointed my dear, you were such a lovely piece of ss. Really. The CIA has trained you well. You made it hard to get out of bed in the morning."**

**I tried to look shocked, "You can't mean that? They lied to you."**

**"Perhaps, but I can't let you get in the way of business, Cara mia. My friends here think you're CIA and if eliminating you will make them happy, then I'm afraid I must let them have their way."**

**"You bastard!" I was about to go for him, but they shoved the muzzle into Greg's head. Greg's head tilted from the pressure of the muzzle against his temple. I stopped about two feet from Diego. **

**The two men I had floored were on their feet and the one I had hurt started dragging me into the other room by my hair. I took one look at Greg, who was about to do something foolish and warned him with a shake of the head not to do anything. He still looked as if he was going to pounce, but the leader knew this and warned him with a poke from his gun. Greg settled down, watching me with pure fear in his deep blue eyes.**


	32. Chapter 21  CIAO

**_This is the end of the story and I really hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me a final review. I'd like to hear from you!_**

**CHAPTER 21**

**Greg House got to his feet as he heard the sound of the door close. He turned to Diego and glared.**

**Diego said with all sincerity, "Dr. House, I'm sorry that you are involved in this. She was a CIA operative and she killed a former KGB agent. As you can see, my Russian friends aren't very happy about that."**

**"What will they do to her?" He asked in Italian.**

**"Whatever they want. I doubt we'll see her again." He said it so coldly that House wanted to rip his tongue out.**

**The tall Russian turned to Diego and said in Italian, "You're guest is a liability too. I need to talk to my superiors about what to do."**

**He stepped back and took out a phone, dialed and then began a hushed conversation in Russian. House stood there as the minutes ticked by. He should have been cold, it was 52 degrees in the packing room, but he wasn't. He was sweating and worried about Isibél. He was about to say something to Diego when the silence was pierced by two shots which rang out from the room in the back. House flinched and became unsteady on his feet.**

**The tall man closed his cell phone and looked at House. House was in shock, the sound of the gun had drained all of the energy and feelings he had in him. He was hoping that when the door opened, it would be her with their automatic weapons. He knew Isibél was a fighter, she wouldn't go down without a fight. **

**The door opened and the two men stepped out, both with their automatic weapons. One was zipping up his pants and smiling. House let out a moan and everyone looked at him. He raised his hand to his forehead and stared at Diego and the tall man in contempt. "You're animals. You're disgusting animals." **

**The tall man looked at Diego, "They want us to make sure he doesn't talk." He turned to the two men and in Russian said, "Take him, kill him and then bury the bodies." He shrugged his shoulders at House. "I'm sorry Dr. House, but there's nothing I can do. You're a liability." He motioned to Diego to follow him, "We'll get you back to your limousine, but remember that we're not pleased and we expect you to clean up your mess from here on out."**

**Diego and the tall man left as House was led back to the room where Isibél had been taken. He had no energy to fight, he wanted it to be over. Without Isibél, it didn't really matter if he lived or died now. **

**The two men opened the door and House saw her. She was laying in her blouse and panties in a pool of her own blood coming from the wound in her head and one in the heart. Just as he blanked out he heard a voice, "Dr. House, Dr. House, hey Joe, he's falling."**

**House could feel a bump on his head from where he fell. He didn't want to open his eyes, afraid he'd be staring at the end of an automatic weapon. But then he heard the sound of a siren and could feel that he was in motion. He soon realized he was in an ambulance lying prone on a gurney. He decided to keep his eyes closed and listen.**

**"Are you going to the tambola? " One male voice asked.**

**"No, I have to work, but Catrina is." Another male voice responded.**

**House was pretty sure that they were speaking in English, but he was so disoriented, he wasn't certain.**

**The ambulance stopped and the doors opened. House opened his eyes and saw the young man get him ready so that they could lower him and move him into the back of a characterless building. The ambulance doors opened and they lifted him down. No one said anything to him. He was taken inside and immediately a man in a lab coat came over to him.**

**"Dr. House, I'm Dr. Samuel Gunther and you're in a American private clinic in Italy. I'm going to be back to examine you, but I have an important phone call to take." he closed the curtain around the bed.**

**House kept his mouth shut and looked around. He heard more male voices laughing. "Yeah, D.C. is pissed. They want to know why this guy wasn't being followed. I guess someone dropped the ball.**

**There was a long pause and then he heard the door to the room close. He saw a woman's hand grab the curtain and pull it to reveal her face. House grimaced from the constricting of his heart muscle.**

**"Jesus Christ." He screamed clutching his heart.**

**She hit a button and rang for medical attention. "Honey, are you okay? Is it your heart?"**

**"Fucking right it's my heart. You were dead." His face scrunched together in pain as he continued to hold his chest and rock. **

**"God, I'm sorry! They should have told you." She looked around to see if the doctor was coming.**

**He tried to look up. She was bruised and her nose swollen, "He really did bust your nose didn't he?"**

**She felt the bandage and the pain shot through her cheeks, "Yeah, he's going to pay for that." She looked at the door as someone entered. It was Dr. Gunther.**

**"What's going on?"**

**"I think I have him a shock. He didn't know I was alive. The last time he saw me I had a bullet hole in my head and was laying in a pool of blood."**

**Gunther hooked House up to a monitor and saw that his heart was racing. "He's having a panic attack.'**

**"Crap!" House said, embarrassed.**

**"I'm going to give you some Lorazipam to calm you."**

**House nodded his head and the doctor injected him. After a minute or two House laid back on the pillow and looked up at her. His jaw was clenched, "You better explain what's going on." **

**"I thought you'd be happy to know I wasn't dead." she said stroking his hair.**

**"Yeah, that depends on your answers."**

**"Apparently when you and I were in the library, Diego received a call from his Russian clients telling him that I was CIA and that Yuri was going to expose me, but was now missing. They told him to kill me as soon as possible. He told them it would have to wait until tomorrow because we had a guest. In other words, you showing up like that saved my life."**

**The Company intercepted the call and another one. As backup, the Russians had sent out a killing posse to make sure I was dead. The Company intercepted the party, killed them and then staged their own party. Diego had to believe we were both dead. It was possible that Diego would want to see my body, so the boys made me up Hollywood style, spilled some fake blood and whamo, dead corpse. Unfortunately, we couldn't tell you because you had to look like you believed it too.**

**So now Diego thinks I'm dead and they all think the Russians did it. When their posse shows up dead, they'll think the Americans killed them in retaliation for killing me. We have another agent inside and so we can continue to monitor Diego's activities. We managed to pull some information off of Yuri's blackberry and it more than makes up for the fact that I was exposed.**

**House looked as if he was calming down, the monitored showed that his heart rate and blood pressure were falling towards the normal range. House closed his eyes and then opened them again. It dawned on him that, not only was Isibél alive, but she was no longer tied to this investigation. She was a free woman. He looked at her, her face battered and broken and was angry that this could happen to her from people who were on her side. "Why did he have to do that to you?"**

**She sat down on the edge of the bed. "He had to make it look genuine. I didn't know he was on our side or I would have played the damsel in distress and this wouldn't have happened. But the guy who was suppose to warn me had a flat tire on the way to the restaurant! Can you believe it? I didn't know they were CIA. I couldn't stand there and let them kill you, could I?"**

**He held her little hand. "I didn't want to live when I heard those two shots. This can't be how you want to live your life. I saw tonight how dangerous it is for you. Even if you won't come back to me, I want you to stay alive. You need to get a new line of work Besides, you look better as a blonde."**

**She sighed. Giving up the CIA again wasn't something she had planned on doing. She loved her job, the action, the intrigue, the acting. Staring down at him, she could see how distraught he was. She hated to admit it, but she loved him more than the job. She love him and the little veins that ran across his temple, the wrinkles that encircled his blue eyes, the gray hair that now overpowered the brown. She loved him and she would never, ever, understand why.**

**He sensed her weakening and knew he had to attack head on, "Marry me. Let's get married here, in Rome, have our honeymoon here."**

**She threw her head back and laughed, "I can't honeymoon here, Diego and the Russians might see me."**

**"Well, then, you pick the place."**

**"I don't want to marry you anymore." She was telling the truth.**

**His face dropped and his eyebrows arched up in a pitiful look, "Why?"**

**"When I was standing there watching him hold that gun to your head, nothing seem more important to me than that you be well and happy. I don't need for you to marry me to know that you will love me forever." She gave him an impish smile, "Now, if you tell me in a year that you still want to marry me, then we'll get married. But I'm telling you that I don't need it anymore if you don't want marriage."**

**He sat up in bed, his head pounding and causing him to squint, "Oh no, you're not doing that to me. I'm marrying you so that the CIA can't take you away from me for three years. I want you with me, you're marrying me."**

**She bent down and turned her broken nose so that she could comfortably kiss him. The kiss was short and sweet, but House knew it sealed the deal. She would choose him over the Farm.**

**"If you're still willing to marry me after a year, then we will, but not before."**

**"What about the CIA?" he asked.**

**"It's a job. I'll transfer to Homeland Security, I think the country owes me that, don't you?"**

**"Hell, they owe you their best speckled pup."**

**The doctor came back in and looked at the monitor. "Let's get an MRI and find out if you did any damage to that famous brain of yours."**

**Isibél piped up, "No need to do that doctor, he definitely has brain damage, he just asked me to marry him."**

**The doctor smiled, "Congratulations.**

**House replied, "I think I do need that MRI. I'm not thinking clearly or at least not hearing clearly; she just told me she wants to wait a year. Do you think she's having second thoughts?"**

**The doctor shrugged and chuckled, "Who knows women? Once you think you have them figured out, they get a face lift."**

**They all laughed and House was sent for his MRI. When he received the all clear, he found himself once again being debriefed by the CIA.**

**He was in a room alone with two agents, one male and one female. "And you went to the apartment because you were curious about how Diego was treating your former girlfriend?"**

**"Not former. Didn't you hear me you morons? We had just had a torrid rendevous in London." He wiggled his eyebrows, "Besides, I thought maybe I'd get lucky in Italy and she'd be by herself."**

**"You knew that you might get her killed and you still went?"**

**"I'm not an idiot, I knew I could play it so he wouldn't know. He bought it didn't he?"**

**The agents admitted to each other that Diego Nava never did discover that House was Isibél' s lover.**

**After another hour, the agents had to admit that House was a hard nut to crack. His debriefing was painful, for them. Both felt like they had just sparred with Zorro. Afterwards, House was escorted down to a room with a couch, television, DVD player and some DVD's including, _The Bourne Identity_. They brought him in a sack lunch and he began to gobble it up.**

**"Where's Isibél?"**

**"Being debriefed. She'll join you soon." The younger, stoic female agent told him.**

**Half an hour later, Isibél walked into the room, dressed in a track suit and carrying a satchel.**

**"Come on Sanchez, time for us to head out west." She nodded at House to follow her.**

**They got into a car that took them to a small jet. "Uncle Sam is springing for us to fly home first class."**

**"Great, we won't have to use the commode to join the mile high club."**

**"Dear, we'll be sharing the plane with four other agents, so you can put your pecker away."**

**They got on the plane and Isibél motioned for him to pick where he wanted to sit. There were two couches with three seatbelts each, two loveseats that faced each other with two seatbelts each and then two Captain chairs with a table inbetween.**

**He chose a couch so that he and Isibél could lay down if they wanted. She smiled, already knowing he'd choose that. A few minutes later the other agents came aboard including the agent that House knew from his build, was the tall one that hit Isibél.**

**House looked at him and said, "You like hitting women?" He pointed at Isibél's nose, "Does it feel good to know that you did that to someone you're suppose to be protecting?"**

**"Look, I've already apologized to Isibél. She was suppose to be docile. When she wasn't, I had to give a good show or Nava would never believe that a Russian would take that from her. Hell, if she hadn't been protecting you, she wouldn't have been fighting back. So it's just as much your fault."**

**House shook his head, "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that and make sure you let your mommy know that you like to beat women. I'm sure she'll be proud."**

**The guy clenched his fist and Isibél laughed. "Oh Mac, calm down. He's just peeing on the hydrant to see if you'll pee over his." She turned to House, "Leave it alone, he's already been called back to Langley for what happened. And he's right, if I hadn't felt the need to protect you, I would have played the docile woman looking to Diego for help."**

**House sneered at Mac who just ignored him and took the seat facing away from them. During the trip, House and Isibél stretched out on the couch, spooning each other and falling asleep. By the time they got to Langley, the sun was just coming up. **

**There were two cars waiting at the airport. When House was directed to one and Isibél to another he started to get mad. "What's going on here? I thought we were done with all this crap."**

**Morell got out of the car which was meant for Isibél and the other agents. He approached House, "Dr. House, your passport will be reissued within the next few days. And you'll be reimbursed for anything you lost in the luggage that was at Nava's. Please don't get your picture in the news anytime soon, remember that you're suppose to be dead. We'll have this all wrapped up soon and you can come out of obscurity. But for now, you need to lay low. I've contacted Dr. Cuddy and she understands. She wants you to stay home for the next week so that no one knows you're alive."**

**"Why isn't Isibél going with me?" House said, his hand holding onto the fabric of Isibél's top so that she couldn't move.**

**Morell was a little taken aback by this. "Isibél, had you planned on going with Dr. House?"**

**"No, not just yet. I still have all my reports to write up while they're fresh in my head. Greg, I'll join you as soon as I'm done with the reports."**

**House looked back and forth between Morell and Isibél, "Can't you write your reports at the house?" **

**She giggled, "Yeah. I can just see you leaving me alone so that I can get my work done. Until I can write with my toes in a prone position, I won't be able to get any work done with a bored House."**

**"Then I'm staying here." He planted his feet and then added, "And I'm not going to stay quiet."**

**Isibél was embarrassed. House was acting like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. "Greg, go home. I'll see you in a week."**

**"I'm staying."**

**She shrugged her shoulders at Morell, indicating that it was beyond her control.**

**"Agent O'Rourke, your reports aren't that key to this investigation anymore. You've already provided enough information in debriefings over the years. One week off isn't going to make a difference. You two stay low and we'll let you know when we pull the plug on the operation." Morell smiled at Isibél, turned to look at House and chuckled. "Dr. House, you are ...you are either incredibly brilliant or stunningly foolish. But for some reason, you managed to win the heart of one of the best minds our agency has working for it. Take good care of her." He walked back towards the towncar, "You two take that car to the other end of the airport. There's a commuter plane waiting there to take you to Princeton." **

**He turned to climb into the car. But as he was getting in, he stopped and got back out. He yelled to Isibél. She turned, but was unable to make out what he was saying. She motioned to her ear to show that she hadn't heard. Just as Morell took in a breath and began to scream over the planes, the plane closest to them shut down its engines. His voice rang out clearly. "I forgot to tell you, Rome called to tell us that you're tests came back inconclusive. You better get tested again in a week."**

**"Oh...thanks." She turned red and started to walk towards the town car.**

**"What tests?" House asked as he got into the seat next to her.**

**She looked straight ahead, "Uh, I should have started my period yesterday. I might be pregnant."**

**House was stunned into silence. He was afraid to ask, but he couldn't help it. He smiled gently at her, "Would it be me or Diego?"**

**"Oh, let's just say that _if_ I'm pregnant, it will have blue eyes and a penchant for creating havoc."**

**The End **


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